Even
by Magicallioness
Summary: Full story summary: Harry and Draco have been trapped inside the Ministry of Magic by the magical equivalent of a bomb. Stuck in close quarters, they have to find a way to set aside their differences, disable the bomb, get the culprit oh, and not die of boredom.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warning(s):** bitching boys  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks heaps to my wonderful boyfriend, who was nice enough to beta this first part for me. I promised him I will find someone else to do the 'gay porn parts', which I did. This story is actually finished and fully beta'd, so I'll update regularly.  
Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated. Prologue

The Ministry's alarm was loud, like a screeching hippogryph descending from the heavens in endless repetition and Harry Potter had to make a conscious effort not to cover his ears with his hands. That would've made him look rather undignified, especially for an Auror, and while he normally didn't care much for the impression he made on people – being who he was - his current company forced him to alter his usual behavior. He did not want to look undignified in front of Draco Malfoy.

"Merlin, can't they find a normal way to signal an emergency? One that does not shrivel my ear drums? Honestly, this is supposed to be the top wizarding institute in Britain and this is the best they can come up with?" Draco Malfoy shot an angry look at Harry, as if he personally was to blame for their current predicament. Then again, what else was new.

Harry decided to ignore Malfoy's latest attempt at riling him up, as he didn't give a flying fig about the ponce's ear drums anyway, and focused on the ruckus outside the Ministry's War Room instead.

Hurried footsteps sounded on the other side of the large wooden door, mixed with the scraping of chairs and the sound of doors slamming against the wall as they were opened too forceful; the inhabitants of the offices careless in their haste to get out. Harry surmised it was clear to everyone in the Ministry that this was not a drill.

"How long is this going to take anyway? I have business to attend to," Malfoy drawled behind his back and the mere sound of that voice made Harry's teeth clench in irritation. Or perhaps it was the utter self-centeredness of the remark, but it really didn't matter, as the outcome was the same. Harry turned around to face the thorn in his side he couldn't seem to get rid of. Malfoy's aloof posture drove his annoyance to higher levels as he sat there on the big round table between two finely ornamented oak chairs with his legs crossed, one elbow poking in his knee so the attached arm and hand could support his pointy chin as his head rested there in a picture of perfect boredom.

"Merlin's balls, Malfoy, there's a spell on that door! Now I'm not sure what kind exactly, but I can tell you it's not friendly. There's no telling what might happen if one of us walks through there. And since we have no fireplace here and this is a no-apparating zone, we'll just have to wait until the Aurors find another way of communicating with us." Harry realized he was lecturing in the tone one would reserve for a four year old child, but he honest to God didn't care. Malfoy deserved it for his too good for you attitude and narcissistic behavior.

"Oh fun, considering the average competence of the Auror squad, that could take forever. And of course, you had to send the entire Ministry into a full alert by sending out a code red, which means everybody has to go to their designated evacuation site and identify themselves and then the Minister will have to proclaim the Ministry safe enough for the Aurors to enter, blah, blah, blah. We will be here for hours," Malfoy whined, uncrossing his legs and sliding down so his feet touched the ground, while pulling a hand through his hair.

"Yes, likely, so how about you stop bitching and make it a bit more bearable on all of us!" Harry rolled his eyes at his trapee and walked up to the door facing the both of them. It was a solid wooden barrier between the War room and the rest of the Ministry, but since Harry had arrived here this morning, it had become far more than that. It was now a harmful obstacle between them and the rest of the world and a shock to the wizarding world, no doubt, that someone could place a spell smack bang in the middle of the Auror's headquarters in the Ministry of Magic. A powerful spell. Harry could practically feel the magic humming as he got closer, the small hairs on his hands and forearms rising from the static electricity the spell was creating. He drew his wand from the holder inside his Auror robes and started performing some basic detection spells.

Funny they were still called robes; after the defeat of Voldemort, the whole Ministry had seen a shockingly complete overhaul, aiming at streamlining it to work in better tandem with the Muggle governing bodies and trying to eliminate old fashioned things that slowed down a wizard in the modern world of today. It had only served to intensify the bureaucracy, of course, but there were good sides too. Like the new Auror robes, which were more of a uniform really; smart pants and jacket – shirt not provided – with all kinds of nifty magical gizmos. And non-magical ones, like the leather wand holder that came with arm and hip or breast strap. Harry had chosen the breast strap as addition to the standard arm strap, because this way he could more or less hide his wand when necessary.

"Potter, are you daft or just completely mental?" the voice at Harry's back attacked again. The Auror gritted his teeth in annoyance, but did an otherwise remarkable job of ignoring Malfoy. "You're going to get the both of us blown up, if you continue waving your wand around like an attention depraved first year."

"We cannot disarm the spell if we don't know what it is, Malfoy. What do you propose we do?" Harry honestly felt he earned a year's worth of character points for his self restrained. If Malfoy ventured to push it any further, he really couldn't be held responsible for hexing the git into next week, he would be fully and utterly justified.

"I propose we wait for your team of losers to show up and conduct what they so laughingly call an 'investigation'. At least it will get them blown up in the process if they screw it up, not me," Malfoy stated as he leaned back on his palms and re-crossed his legs, at the ankles this time. Harry fervently wished for the other man in the room to spontaneously combust, but no such luck.

"Just shut it, Malfoy, or I swear to God I will put a silencing charm on you!" As it turned out, Malfoy responded well to the combination of threats and a wand pointed under his chin. Or at the very least it quieted him. Harry counted his blessings and went back to work on the door.

Long, silent minutes went by as Harry cast detecting spell after detecting spell and Malfoy sat back and watched, his lips a thin line of disapproval, a pinkish colored stripe in perfectly light marble. But it curled into an almost satisfied smile when Harry got up with a huff of frustration.

"Nothing?" Malfoy asked, and his voice sounded almost hopeful, the _–ing_ just a bit too high pitched for a neutral question. Harry heard this, because he had become rather apt in analyzing Malfoy's voice over the past few years of working with him. Well, working with him wasn't exactly the way to put it. It was more like he forced Malfoy to do a potion analyses for his cases when needed and the analysts unwillingness to share his findings – even though the Ministry had made it clear to him he was to cooperate with the Aurors at all times – had trained Harry in listening to the pitch and tremor of Malfoy's voice as much as to his words – possibly more so.

"Lots of things, but none I understand," he answered grimly, eyebrows drawn together in a dark frown that covered bright green eyes. He was too busy worrying over the fact that he had no idea what kind of spell they were dealing with, to get pissed off about Malfoy's apparent glee at his failure.

"Well, imagine that." But of course, Malfoy could push it too far.

"Now listen here, you self centered prat, at least I'm trying to get us out of this mess, I don't see you doing anything!" Harry whirled on him and then vaguely wondered why he couldn't come up with a better return than this. He should be used to bickering with Malfoy by now and he usually came up with far better retorts than this one. He quickly concluded it must be because he had more important things to think about, like that spell he couldn't read.

"And risk getting blown up? Of course not," Malfoy reasoned, pushing himself off the table and stretching languorously. Harry resisted the urge to pull out his own hair in frustration at Malfoy's infuriating attitude to all this, drew up a chair and straddled it. He folded his arms over the back rest, planted his chin upon them and regarded the door darkly, trying to figure out exactly what it was he had felt minutes ago.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry almost fell of his chair when his cell phone went off. He tried to regain his balance and fish the instrument – which was playing the Weird Sisters' latest hit with increasing volume – out of his pocket at the same time. The result was less than dignified, but eventually he managed to send a slightly high pitched greeting into the horn.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione's voice sounded in his ear.

"'Mione, hey. Yes, we're fine. Is the Ministry evacuated yet? I'd really like to get out of this room as soon as possible," Harry told his friend, while pacing up and down in front of the door.

"Not enjoying Malfoy in close quarters?" Hermione's voice sounded highly amused and Harry grimaced.

"Not at all. What's the situation?" he wanted to know.

"The evac is complete, but you and Malfoy were missing. A locater spell revealed both of you in the War Room, which left us with no magical way to contact you. But Harry, why didn't you call?" Hermione asked and Harry had the decency to flush a rather deep shade of red.

"I uhm, didn't think of it," he admitted sheepishly and grimaced once again when his friend sighed.

"Oh, Harry… Well, never mind all that now. Tell me what happened," Hermione requested. And Harry, happy to escape one of his best friends' infamous scoldings, hurried to explain.

"You know the case I've been working on, the attack on that Muggle family? I left a potion for analysis with Malfoy and he sent me a note this morning that he found something and I should meet him in the War Room." Harry held up his hand for silence as Malfoy started protesting in the background and rushed through the rest of the explanation, forcing the words out as fast as possible, trying to get the whole story out, before Malfoy interrupted him again. "When I arrived, Malfoy was already there. I felt something as I walked through the door, so I checked it and I found there's a very powerful spell on it – a very unfriendly powerful spell, so I sent up a code red as per protocol and waited for the evac and the Aurors to contact me."

"What, Malfoy! I'm on the phone here!" Harry demanded as he put a hand on the microphone and turned on the only other person in the room. His annoyance dissipated somewhat when he noticed Malfoy was even paler than usual and the git looked worried.

"I never sent you a note," he said sharply, the very tone of his voice urging Harry to believe him. "I received a note from you; it said you had questions about the potion I was analysing and to meet you here."

Harry frowned, he didn't like where this was going at all.

"Harry?" Hermione's worried voice sounded through the speaker. "What's going on?"

"Malfoy claims he never sent me a note, but received one from me which I never sent. So, either he's lying, or someone set a trap," he quickly summarized for Hermione. He shot a quick glance at Malfoy. The potions analyst had started pacing up and down in front of the round table he had inhabited so cockily only half an hour earlier and he looked decidedly pissed off with Harry considering the possibility of him lying. Harry turned back to the door to hide a satisfactory smile.

"Harry, do you think he's lying?" Hermione asked cautiously. The Auror considered that for a moment. Malfoy hated him, he hated the way he was forced to work for the Ministry ever since the defeat of Voldemort, but he wasn't stupid. Even if he wanted something to happen to him, Malfoy wouldn't have locked himself in the room as well. Besides, the git seemed as worried about the situation as he was.

"It doesn't matter, 'Mione. I have to consider all options, you know that," he answered instead of telling Hermione that. It wasn't an answer to her question, but it wasn't a lie either. It was the truth – this was an attack on the Ministry and possibly his and/or Malfoy's life, that meant this would be an investigation as soon as Kingsley Shacklebolt learned of this and a good Auror listened to the evidence, not to his own conclusions or suspicions. Harry got that Hermione understood all too well he was avoiding the question when she sighed. He should've known better than to try and fool her.

"Alright, Harry. I'll get Kingsley up to date on the situation right away. I'll let you know if there's any news, ok? And Harry? Please be careful?"

Harry promised to do just that, said his goodbye and dropped his phone back into the pocket of his trousers. He didn't have the chance to take his hand back out, before Malfoy started.

"So, I'm lying?" It was an accusation wrapped in a question, thrown at him by a nervous and possibly paranoid Malfoy, who was no longer pacing. He'd stopped right in front of Harry and stood there facing him, arms crossed tightly across his chest, pointy chin aimed slightly upward to give the impression that he was taller. Which – Harry felt – was rather unnecessary, since he was the taller of the two of them to begin with, albeit not by much.

"I have to keep all options open, Malfoy and right now, you lying is an option," Harry answered calmly, his experience with angry suspects overruling his dislike for Malfoy at the moment.

"That so? Then what about you? You could be lying just as well!" There was a righteousness to Malfoy's anger that Harry recognized as a rather strong indication that Malfoy was, in fact, telling the truth. But that was still irrelevant. Harry knew full well that Malfoy was inclined to be suspicious of him at the best of times, so he understood that encouraging that behavior in the one person he was trapped in the room with was probably not the brightest idea. But he honestly felt he had no choice.

"That's an option _you_ should keep open."


	2. Chapter 1 MUTUAL ENEMIES

**Author:** Magicallioness  
**Title**: EVEN – Chapter 1 MUTUAL ENEMIES  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione  
**Story Summary**: Harry and Draco have been trapped inside the Ministry of Magic by the magical equivalent of a bomb. Stuck in close quarters, they have to find a way to set aside their differences, disable the bomb, get the culprit oh, and not die of boredom.  
**Chapter Summary**: "I expected as much," Harry sighed. Leading an investigation from a room with no facilities _and_ a Malfoy in it was not going to be easy. Which reminded him… "I threw every detection spell that I know at that damn door, but it's not giving me anything, just a bunch of mixed energy signatures."  
**Rating**: for the whole story: R, possibly even NC-17, for chapter 1: PG  
**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warning(s):** uhm... stern Hermione? Really, that's the best I've got.  
**Word Count:** 3.549  
**Author's Notes:** Once again thanks goes to my wonderful boyfriend, for jumping in and doing the first chapter as well. Reviews and constructive criticism are still very welcome. And last, enjoy!

Chapter 1 Mutual enemy

As time wore on, Harry became increasingly more fidgety, which made Malfoy increasingly more irritated. And by the time Hermione finally called back, the tension in the Ministry's War Room was so thick that anyone who walked into it would have surely ended up with a concussion. Although the difference might not have been noticeable, since one had to be utterly stupid to walk into it to begin with.

"'Mione? Please tell me that you're calling because the Aurors will open this door any minute now," Harry babbled into the phone, entirely too conscious of how desperate his voice sounded. Being locked up in a room with Malfoy was definitely not good for his health. Therefore, he saw no reason for Hermione to giggle.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm calling to say the minister has just allowed the Aurors back into the Ministry, they should be arriving soon. Kingsley has asked me to inform you that this is now an official investigation and since you're the only Auror actually in the room, you're to lead it," Hermione explained the situation.

"I expected as much," Harry sighed. Leading an investigation from a room with no facilities _and_ a Malfoy in it was not going to be easy. Which reminded him… "I threw every detection spell that I know at that damn door, but it's not giving me anything, just a bunch of mixed energy signatures."

"Harry! You used magic around an unknown spell? You could've gotten hurt!" Hermione's outburst was one of genuine concern, Harry knew. It was the reason he easily took her rebuke in stride.

"I waited until the Ministry had emptied, so no one could get hurt. The detection spells had to be cast at some point, I figured that would be the best option we'd get," he calmly explained. Hermione was still the smartest of them all by far, but Harry hadn't risen through the Auror ranks this fast on stubbornness and Gryffindor courage alone.

"I guess you're right, Harry, but as your friend I retain the right to not like it one bit, alright?" Harry smiled at the phone against his ear, reminded of how fiercely Hermione would defend them whenever she thought they were in trouble.

"Alright. Keep me posted," he said, cutting their conversation short as he heard movement on the other side of the door. It was oddly alien after the silence that had reigned in the Ministry for all this time.

"Potter? Potter, you in there?" Kingsley's gruff voice broke through the door, thick wooden panels powerless against the sheer volume the man could produce.

"Yes sir! So is Malfoy, sir! I've done all the detection spells on the door, but without any success. The magic signatures are all jumbled," Harry called back, only to be rather roughly shoved out of the way by Malfoy.

"Kingsley? Kingsley! You get me out of here, you hear! Potter is trying to blow me up!" To Malfoy's credit he actually sounded more pissed than scared.

"Malfoy, get a grip! What the hell you talking about, Potter is trying to blow you up?" Kingsley sounded very much not amused by the accusation randomly flung at one of his best Aurors.

"The detection spells, it could've set off whatever's on that door, " Malfoy shouted back, the pitch of his voice rising in an effort to compensate for the fact that Kingsley didn't seem to take him very seriously.

"The spells had to be done with you two still in the room either way. There's no way either of you is leaving until we know exactly what that spell will do. I'll have Granger start spell analysis right away, so you two can get out of there before you hex each other into next week," Kingsley boomed through the door, making Malfoy slink back against the centre table.

"Thank you, sir, it's appreciated," Harry answered, firmly back in position in front of the door. Hermione informed me I'm to lead the investigation, but I'll need some equipment for that and we need to find a better way of communicating than shouting through the door."

"Agreed, I'll get Parkinson on the communication issue immediately and I'll request Granger make looking into what magic can be safely done around the spell a priority. Hang in there, Potter, Malfoy." And with that, Kingsley's pounding footsteps could be heard retreating down the hallway. Harry dropped back down into his chair and groaned at the thought of Parkinson being involved in this. She was no more a Voldemort supporter than Malfoy, but the fact that he had been instrumental in capturing both her parents made their relationship… well strained was the understatement of the year, really.

"Well, at least there's one competent person working on the case," Malfoy concluded, clearly pleased with the part his old schoolmate and good friend would get to play in the investigation. Harry didn't even bother to reply, lost in thought while staring down the door. But his head shot up, his current reasoning interrupted, when Malfoy walked into his view and – finally – inspected the door himself.

"Behold, the Prince of Slytherin finally decided to grace the door with a look of his own. Finally got over the fear of being blown up?" Harry couldn't resist jibing. Malfoy didn't even turn around, in fact he gave no indication that he had heard Harry at all, but he still answered.

"Grow up, Potter, we're not at Hogwarts anymore, I'm not the Prince of Slytherin. And of course I'm afraid of getting blown up; I would be a fool not to be." Harry didn't answer, unwilling to admit he felt rather childish for jeering Malfoy and even less willing to admit that Malfoy was right about the being afraid. It wasn't like Harry was happy with the situation. It was simply that he had so much experience with dangers like this that he'd developed a sort of automatic reaction of stepping past the fear.

"Potter, I know you cast every detection spell you know at that door, but did you think to take a look at it?" Malfoy demanded rather sharply as he gracefully sank through his knees to look at the doorstep. Harry bristled.

"Of course I looked at it, but there's nothing to see, the spell has been cast on the entire door, it's not attached at one single point," he pointedly explained, while Malfoy inspected the floor.

"Maybe not, but there's a potion on the doorstep," the former Prince of Slytherin concluded. He was balancing on his haunches, arms draped over his knees to help him keep his balance as he twisted at the waist to turn to Harry.

"What?" the Auror hurried to kneel besides Malfoy on the floor, ignoring the way the spell made his hairs stand on end, and took a look at where Malfoy was pointing. A faded blue line could be seen running across the floor in front of the doorstep, towards the wall and disappearing under the door, like some kind of fluid had dried and left a mark at the edges of what used to be the puddle. Harry looked at Malfoy and felt a small shock run through him as he realized how close they were. He ignored it.

"Do you know what it is?" he asked instead. Malfoy shook his head and turned back to the markings on the floor, seemingly unbothered by their proximity.

"No, but I can tell you this: it's somehow linked to the spell," he answered, then got up and walked back to the round table in the centre of the room. "And that spell is nasty, it's making my hairs stand on end."

Harry nodded vaguely, his eyes still focused on the remnants of the potion in front of him, but he suddenly stood up as Malfoy's words got through to him.

"What did you say?" He asked, getting his wand out again. Malfoy eyed the piece of wood suspiciously and spared a quick glance at the table to see if any other wooden things in the room would be a threat to him. It appeared safe, but he cautiously moved a bit away from it anyway.

"I said that that spell is nasty," he repeated, but Harry shook his head, slowly closing the distance between them, wand now pointed at Malfoy's chest. The potions analyst swallowed; he really did not like wands being pointed at him, especially not when they were held by very powerful wizards who did not like him much.

"That it makes my hairs stand on end?" Malfoy's answer came out more like a question. And a little squeaky too, due to the fear of saying something wrong and being not only trapped in a room with Harry Potter, but hexed to boot.

"That's what I thought," Harry said and cast a spell at Malfoy that left him flinching, very relieved and confused in rapid succession. Harry couldn't help the smirk that crawled onto his face at scaring the bejeezus out of Malfoy.

"Did you just read my magical signature?" A mostly recovered Malfoy asked, slightly indignant. He had a right to be indignant, Harry reasoned. Reading one's magical signature was considered a breach of privacy and Aurors usually asked for permission out of courtesy. But Harry didn't care much for Malfoy's privacy, nor for being courteous around him.

"I did," he acknowledged and cast another detection spell at the door. "Aha, so that's the way of it, hm?" He mumbled, then turned back to Malfoy, who was looking at him like he'd grown donkey ears. "Do you know how to cast the detection spell I just did, Malfoy?"

"Revelato? Of course, it's one of the basic ones," it was Malfoy's turn to bristle, but Harry ignored it.

"Good, then read my magical signature and then cast Revelato on the door," he instructed. And Malfoy, to his credit, didn't protest, but pulled his wand out of his sleeve. Harry felt Malfoy's magic wash over him as the reading spell mapped out his magical signature and he was shocked to notice it felt gentle and comforting. He'd expected Malfoy's magic to be sharp, cold, like Malfoy himself, not this. And it felt like his blanket being pulled off in the early morning hours of a cold winter day when the other man's magic retreated.

Malfoy, seemingly oblivious to the effect his magic had on Harry, stepped up to the door and cast the detection spell. The result made him frown as he turned back to Harry.

"Fits, huh?" he wanted to know, and on Malfoy's nodded affirmation: "So does yours."

"What? The spell is set for both our magical signatures?" Malfoy's question is as full of admiration as it is of disbelief and Harry is slightly miffed to find out he feels the same way. Weaving one magical signature into a spell trigger was hard enough, if the culprit could manage two and while in the Ministry of Magic no less, he had to be good, very good.

"Seems so. Which means neither of us can go through that door until the spell is disarmed and that whoever is behind this, is a ruddy good spellcaster."

"And a Potions Master. It takes more than ordinary potions training to incorporate one into a spell," Malfoy added.

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked around the table where his best Aurors, Granger, Weasley and Parkinson were gathered. Well, technically he looked asquare the table, because the round one normally used on these occasions was in the Ministry's War Room and thus inaccessible. Kingsley would not forgive whoever did this easily for taking his table away. The large reading table in the Ministy's library was a poor substitute, but it would have to do.

"Listen up!" He bellowed needlessly over an already silent group of underlings and recapped the situation. "It's getting late and it doesn't look like Potter and Malfoy are going to get out of there anytime soon, so we need to get provisions into that room. On top of that, Auror Potter needs a crime board if he's to lead this case. Parkinson, have you found a way for us to communicate with Potter and Malfoy that doesn't involve this Muggle mobile device yet?"

Pansy Parkinson put an ebony box the size of envelope on the table and pushed it towards Kingsley. "For the record, I want to point out that this is proof yet again that we should not incorporate Muggle devices. Honestly, what's the point of making something if it only works for half a day?" Parkinson held up a hand to silence Hermione, who was ready to defend the Muggle cause. "Spare me, Granger. Kingsley, two hours isn't much to come up with something, even for someone as good as me, so this is a crude solution, but it might work."

Kingsley opened the box and extracted six elegant looking quills. One quizzical look across the table was enough to launch Parkinson into explanation. "They're an adaptation on the cheating quills we confiscated from the Weasley twins last month. If Potter or Draco writes something with these quills, its partner will write exactly the same."

Kingsley nodded, examining one of the quills by holding it up in front of his face and squinting angrily at it. "That sounds nice Parkinson. How do we know which one of the two is writing and – in case they do hex each other – that it's not Malfoy writing with Potters quill or vice versa?"

Parkinson scowled which – in all honesty – was not an improvement; screwing up her already pudgy face even further made it look like someone had smacked her in the middle of the nose when she was a baby and it had never grown right again. "Please, Kingsley, give me some credit. Potter's quill and its partner write in red, Malfoy's green and ours – the ones we will use to answer them – in plain black."

"Yes, Granger?" Kingsley permitted Hermione, who had been fidgeting in her seat since the beginning of Parkinson's explanation, clearly displaying that she urgently needed to say something. But Granger always urgently needed to say something and although what she had to say was usually both true and useful, Kingsley had waited for Parkinson to finish her explanation before giving the spells analyst the chance to speak up.

"I believe the magic required for the quills to work can be safely used around the spell, Miss Parkinson checked that with me, and I believe the spell is not volatile. I've also ascertained that the spell is not timed, so we're at least not hurried into doing something rash. That leaves us with one rather hindering obstacle though: how to get the quills into the room," Hermione offered. Kingsley nodded his agreement and looked around the table once again.

"Any ideas people? We all know apparating is not an option," he asked. Several hands shot up.

"Yes, auror Aleka?" Kingsley pointed at a chubby woman sitting at farthest corner of the table. So far, she'd seemed more interested in reading the huge book she was holding than in the meeting, but Kingsley knew his aurors well and this one in particular possessed the uncanny ability of reading and listening at the same time.

"What about transfiguring? Potter and Malfoy could transfigure the things in the room into whatever it is they need and make another door into the room, one that is not going to blow them up once they open it. Providing the magic won't interfere with the spell of course," auror Aleka was looking at Hermione more than at Kingsley when she spoke. The bushy headed spell analyst nodded.

"My thoughts exactly. Unfortunately, I don't know enough about the spell yet to be able to say what kind of magic will affect it nor how exactly. Harry has cast several detection spells already, so I'm inclined to say that non-invasive, light magic is safe. However, we all know configuration is one of the most invasive kinds of magic. Kingsley, how big is your War Room?" Hermione turned her gaze from auror Aleka – who was one of the better aurors out there as far as she was concerned – to Kingsley. The head of the auror department looked puzzled at the question.

"Pretty big, why?" he wanted to know.

"Spells have a sphere of influence. Depending on the kind and strength of the spell, that sphere is bigger or smaller. It's most clearly shown in your basic Lumos. The light shows the sphere of influence, or how far the magic reaches," she explained, pleased to see understanding dawning in Kingsley's eyes, while auror Aleka's short blond curls where bobbing up and down vigorously from behind her book. "If your room is big enough to place the door outside the sphere of influence from a transfiguration spell, Harry and Malfoy might be able to transfigure some objects."

"And there is a spell to check the sphere of influence," the broad shouldered auror next to Kingsley spoke up. He winked at Hermione, who rolled her eyes at him, but smiled despite herself. No matter how cocky the man was, knowing of a spell that she hadn't even heard of still impressed her, even if it didn't help them.

"If neither Harry nor Malfoy knows the spell, we're back at square one though, because we have no way to teach them the spell besides shouting instructions through the door and that's far too risky. On top of that, I'd have to check if the spell can be safely cast in the vicinity of the door first", Hermione said.

"Then I suggest you and auror Balendin get to work on that, Granger. In the meantime, the rest of us will work on figuring out who was crazy enough to try and pull this off. Granger, get Potter on that mobilofoon or whatever and update him," Kingsley ordered, effectively closing the meeting. Hermione spared a glance at auror Balendin. He looked entirely too pleased with the arrangement.

"Yeah, Mione, Malfoy knows the spell you're talking about," Harry told his friend again. He understood her surprise. It was rather remarkable that anyone would know more spells than Hermione, let alone Malfoy. "Dunno, Balendin went to Durmstang, Malfoy finished there after the war, perhaps they picked it up there?"

Harry wasn't sure if it was because he didn't understand the principle of speakerphone or if Malfoy was just being his usual rude self, but he didn't supply any reason as to why both he and Balendin knew the spell. Granted, Hermione – who seemed to be in a rush– didn't give him much time.

"Oh, it doesn't matter anyway. I'll let you know as soon as I find out something, ok? And I'll let Kingsley know about the potion and that the spell was set to both of your magical signatures. Save your battery in the meantime Harry, if this doesn't work out, we're back to square one."

As Harry put his cell phone away, he noticed Malfoy was likely not being rude, simply preoccupied. He was staring at the wall as if all the answers would appear on there in magical writing any minute now. Harry quickly looked away, startled, as Malfoy suddenly turned around. There was a pained sort of frown on his face, like he wasn't happy with what he was about to say, but felt like he had no choice but to say it anyway.

"Look, Potter, it seems like we'll be stuck here together for a while, possibly days and although it would greatly amuse be to gripe at you and explain in length how utterly incompetent you are in every single way, I do understand that such behavior would be rather unproductive," he turned back to the wall, facing away from Harry, the frown on his face deepening. "It seems like whoever is behind this, hates us enough to not only trap us in the same room, but force us to work together as well. I, for one, think it the more mature and wise solution to call a truce for now."

It was not exactly a request, more like a demand and Harry thought that was rather typical of Malfoy, just like the amount of insults he had managed to weave into his peace offering. But Harry also recognized the truth in the words of his nemesis: working together would be the fastest – and possibly only – way out of this room. Besides, as Malfoy had so sharply put it earlier, they were no longer children and if Harry was honest with himself – which he did try to be, because in the long run that always turned out to be the best option – he was rather tired of the constant bickering between them.

"Well then," he said, stepping into Malfoy's view and slowly, still somewhat hesitantly extending a hand. "Let's call a truce and get out of here as soon as possible."

Malfoy took the offered hand, having Harry marvel at the softness of the pale white skin for a moment, before the hand was retreated.

"Truce and a fast exit," Malfoy acknowledged. "Besides, I really have to pee."

Harry tried his hardest to fight off the smile that threatened to break through, but failed.


	3. Chapter 2 Double Trouble

**Author**: Magicallioness  
**Title:** EVEN – Chapter 2 Double Trouble  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione,  
**Story Summary:** Harry and Draco have been trapped inside the Ministry of Magic by the magical equivalent of a bomb. Stuck in close quarters, they have to find a way to set aside their differences, disable the bomb, get the culprit oh, and not die of boredom.  
**Chapter Summary:** "They're alright, Ron. The spell isn't volatile or timed as far as I can tell, so as long as they don't do anything stupid, they should be fine," she tried to reassure him. The head in the fireplace grimaced, which – ironically - made it look funny.  
"Yeah, and when has Harry ever done anything stupid, especially when Malfoy's involved?" Ron rebuked.  
**Rating:** for the whole story: R, possibly even NC-17, for Chapter 2: PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warning(s):** Malfoy in boxers, I guess?  
**Epilogue compliant?** most certainly not  
**Word Count:** 3.746  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks the wonderful person called 97swan songs over on LJ, who did the fastest, friendliest, most helpful beta evah for this chapter. Remaining mistakes are most certainly mine. Constructive criticism and reviews are so very welcome. And of course, enjoy!

Chapter 2 Double trouble

It was fortunate for Harry and Draco that the War Room of the Aurors' department was in the heart of the Ministry's lower levels. This meant that the lights were always on, so they didn't have to worry about being able to cast Lumos or other lighting spells to keep the darkness at bay. Hermione, who was sitting behind her desk, almost hidden from view by the pile of books in front of her, was not so lucky, or unlucky, that all depended on your point of view. In the big overhaul, the top floors of the Ministry for Magic had been refurbished and the Spell Analyses department which Hermione headed had been given windows that simulated the weather outside, much like the ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall. Thus, if it rained, streams of water ran down the glass, or if the sun was setting – like now – Hermione was forced to make light in her office. It also served as a good reminder of the time and that was something she needed on occasion. She stood up, ignoring the once-over auror Balendin gave her from behind his own pile of books, and walked over to the fireplace that took up most of the north wall.

"Office of Ronald Weasley," she clearly spoke into the flames. She wondered if other wizards and witches felt as weird talking to a fire as she did. They grew up doing it after all; it was possible that to them, it was as normal as having dinner. Moments later, Ron's head appeared, the shoulders and chest of his auror robes barely showing in the flames. The Order of the Phoenix had been part of the big renewal of the Ministry as well. With Voldemort gone, there was no longer any need for a secret army to oppose him, but the skills and experience of its members were still valuable. To utilize it, the Order of the Phoenix was transformed into an elite attack squad. Either training or advising their colleagues, the identities of Order members were disguised as that of 'normal' aurors. They were only called upon in emergency situations, like freeing hostages or arresting dangerous dark wizards in their hideouts. So to the outside world, Ron looked like a normal mid-level auror, but Hermione knew the Order uniform and combat mask were hidden under those auror robes. And it did sometimes make her feel uneasy.

"Evenin' dear," Ron made a mock bow to her to accompany his proper English husband greeting. "I was just on my way out, what's up?"

Hermione smiled at him. She was tired and worried about Harry and she knew Ron was feeling the same, but he was still putting in the effort to cheer her up. It was kind and considerate of him and it reminded her of why she fell in love with him in the first place.

"Hi, Ron. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to stay in late. We can't leave Harry and Malfoy in that room without at least some means to get through the night. Can you take care of the kids?" she explained to her husband of three years. A look of worry passed over Ron's face. He pulled it back into a reassuring smile quickly, but Hermione had caught it. She was his wife after all.

"They're alright, Ron. The spell isn't volatile or timed as far as I can tell, so as long as they don't do anything stupid, they should be fine," she tried to reassure him. The head in the fireplace grimaced, which – ironically - made it look funny.

"Yeah, and when has Harry ever done anything stupid, especially when Malfoy's involved?" Ron rebuked. Hermione's lips formed into a sour smile. She'd hoped that their schoolboy rivalry would diminish once they got older, but it seemed like Ron had been the only one to grow up. Neither she nor her husband cared much for the former Prince of Slytherin, but they had the decency to be civil to him and Malfoy had repaid them in kind. Harry, however, insisted on bickering with the potions analyst, which didn't make things easier on any of them.

"They'll be ok, Ron. Neither of them is going to risk getting blown up."

"Yeah," auror Balendin laughed in the background. "One thinks he's too pretty and the other thinks he's too important." Hermione rolled her eyes again.

"And then there are those who fit both categories," she mumbled. Ron's face had contorted into an angry look that their two year old daughter had dubbed 'daddy's boom face'.

"You're working late with _him_? He'd better keep his paws to himself, 'Mione, or I swear he'll be neither important, nor pretty!" A sigh escaped Hermione and she rubbed a hand across her forehead. It was sweet really, that Ron was so caring and protective, but this jealous streak of him was rather immature and frankly tiring sometimes.

"Hey, I heard that, you know!" Balendin barked, making his way over to the fireplace. Ron positively fumed at him, which had considerable effect since he was speaking from a fire.

"That was the point," he snapped at the pale blue eyes that were now trying to stare him down. Ron was not impressed, which was to be expected, as staring someone down through a fireplace tended to be rather hard. It had something to do with both people looking down in the first place.

Hermione stepped in between Balendin and the fireplace, effectively breaking the line of view between the two men. Although they didn't deserve that title at the moment, considering they were behaving like children and Hermione would know, she had two after all. "Enough!" she commanded. "Balendin, get back to work, we need to figure out that spell yesterday; we don't have time for pissing contests. Ron, please go home and take care of the kids. I promise if he so much as looks at me funny, I'll hex him into next week myself."

Ron nodded to her from the fireplace, no doubt reassured by her own thinly veiled threat towards her temporary partner. "Alright, 'Mione. I'll ask Ciannait to put aside some supper for you."

"Ciannait?" something dawned in Hermione's eyes. "House elves! Ron you're a genius! Now get out of the fireplace, please, I need to call Kingsley," Ron chuckled at his wife's sudden take-charge attitude, used to it after years of living with her, and vacated the fireplace with a sing-song 'yes dear!'.

"Alright, so we know the spell and the potion are linked. What's normally the reason for doing that?" Harry was pacing up and down the War Room, rather like a tiger in a cage. He felt like one at least, or he imagined this was what a caged tiger felt like: trapped, helpless, frustrated, and incredibly bored.

"There's nothing normal about it. It's done in very specific cases and never for anything good," Malfoy answered. He was a representation of Harry's polar opposite; he was rather like a hawk, appearing in control, collected, sitting cross-legged on the large round table, calmly analyzing the situation.

It didn't matter; both of them jumped almost a foot in the air when a loud 'plop' announced the arrival of a house elf who was holding a large tray of food in each hand.

"Ciannait!" Harry exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Delivering provision as ordered by Mistress Granger, sir," the bright little elf answered as he put the trays down on the round table. Bright was really the only correct way to describe him. Everything about him fit the word, from his flashing red hair that would put even the Weasleys to shame, to his hellish green suit and sunny demeanor.

Harry fished his cell phone out of his trouser pocket and called Hermione as Ciannait popped out of the room again. Malfoy shrugged, quickly recovering from the shock and slid off the table, reaching for an apple from one of the plates.

"Hi 'Moine, it's Harry. Listen, why is your house elf apparating into the Ministry's War Room? I thought this was a no apparating zone?" Harry questioned Hermione, trying to block out the sounds of Malfoy happily munching away on his apple and the 'pop' of Ciannait returning to the room with two thermoses in one hand and a black box in the other.

"Can you put me on speaker phone, Harry? Malfoy needs to hear this too and I'm really too tired to explain this twice," Hermione answered. Harry glanced at his wizarding wrist watch and noticed that pointer that said 'Hermione' was pointing towards 'exhaustion'. It wasn't there yet, but getting too close for Harry's comfort. He put the phone down on the table next to Malfoy and pressed the speaker button.

"Go ahead, 'Moine," he told his friend as he sat down on the chair next to Malfoy so he could hear the phone as well. He caught the way Malfoy glanced at him and wondered about that for a moment, but didn't get the time to properly analyze it, because Hermione was explaining things and when Hermione explained things, they were generally important and frequently hard to follow.

"It's thanks to Ron actually. He reminded me about house elves and they could apparate in and out of Hogwarts as they pleased, remember?" Harry did remember, and it helped him understand why Ciannait could apparate into a no apparating zone, but he didn't understand how it didn't set off the spell. He told Hermione as much.

"House elf magic is not the same as wizarding magic. It's something else entirely. And the spell is triggered by wizarding magic. I was fairly sure that Cainnait wouldn't set it off," Hermione explained, while Ciannait popped in again, nearly toppling under the weight of an enormous stack of parchment and cardboard boxes. Harry helped the little creature put everything on the table, without looking at whatever it was he was putting away.

"Fairly sure?" Malfoy squeaked. "Fairly sure!? Couldn't you have warned us to move to the farthest end of the room or something?"

"It wouldn't have helped much, Malfoy. Besides, I was fairly sure," Hermione repeated. Harry shook his head at Malfoy when he made motions as if to protest again.

"Great, thanks 'Mione. Anything else?" he asked, ignoring the acidic look Malfoy shot at him. He understood Malfoy was upset, but that was only because Malfoy didn't understand and he could explain. Besides, Hermione was beyond tired and pushing her would just piss her off. Harry really didn't want to deal with an annoyed off Hermione on top of everything else.

"Yes, auror Balendin and I finally concluded that the sphere of influence spell is safe to cast. We tested it on our side. You should see a light, much like with Lumos. The edge of the light is where the sphere of influence of the spell on the door ends. I suggest you draw a line on the floor, so you know where the spells influence ends at all times," Hermione went on as Ciannait popped out again. Harry was trying hard to commit everything she said to memory, but he was tired as well.

"Ciannait delivered your copying quills and parchment. There will be an auror stationed outside the sphere of influence on our side at all times. He has his own quill and parchment, so you can communicate with us. Kingsley also suggested I provide some entertainment, and I quote, so you don't hex each other balls off," at this point Harry shot a look at Malfoy, who grinned back at him. Harry felt an odd sense of connection, like they were co-conspirators or something. "So I had Ciannait bring in some board games," Hermione continued, oblivious to the look shared between the two trapped wizards, because – obviously – she couldn't see it through the phone. "Configure whatever you like outside of the sphere of influence, but don't make any changes to the structure of the room, ok? The spell is linked to the door and therefore to the wall, messing with it might set it off. Magic travels through connections like this and no, I'm not going to explain, it's far too late for that. Now, if you don't mind, I'll go home, give my children a kiss and sleep like a log."

"Get some rest, 'Mione. Thanks for everything," Harry told her. Malfoy managed to squeeze in a thank you of his own, before Harry terminated the connection. He took a concerned look at the last stripe of his battery, and then glanced at the quills. He really hoped whatever Parkinson had cooked up would work.

"Sorry about that," he told Malfoy. "When Hermione says she's fairly sure, it means there's like on in a million chance she's wrong." Malfoy gave him an odd little smile and nodded in understanding, then got out his wand and walked towards the door.

"You'd better get out of the way, Potter, just in case," he said in what sounded like admirable and uncharacteristic concern for Harry's safety. But Harry shook his head and positioned himself at angle between Malfoy and the door, wand at the ready.

"What on earth do you think you are doing?" Malfoy demanded, dropping his wand and looking exasperated. Harry didn't change his posture though.

"If the spell goes off, I'll try to get a protective shield around you before the blast radius reaches you," he explained shortly, fully expecting Malfoy to acquiesce and cast the spell. But he didn't.

"It's impossible to outcast a spell, you know that. You're better off saving your own arse," he protested instead. The corner of Harry's left mouth turned up into an ironic smile.

"Then it's lucky for you I took a vow to protect everyone I can, even at the cost of my own life." Malfoy rolled his eyes, probably at Harry's hero-complex that was shining through in all its glory, but turned back to the door and – after one last look at Harry to make sure he was ready – cast the spell.

It _was_ rather like Lumos, but Hermione had failed to tell them that the light radiating outward from the door was bright red. It expanded in a semi-circle until it engulfed both Harry and Malfoy and kept going. The wizards turned and followed the line that divided red and colorless, moving closer and closer to the back wall of the room. Harry shot a nervous glance at Malfoy. Things were not looking good. But Malfoy seemed as calm as Albus Dumbledore had been when he had eaten the Bertie Bots Every Flavoured Bean that tasted of earwax in Harry's first year. As it turned out, calm was the correct state of mind, because the red glow halted about a meter and a half from the far wall, leaving two large corners for Harry and Malfoy to redecorate. Harry hurried towards it and traced a line at the outer edge of the area, whispering a spell under his breath. The floor under the line glowed bright orange for a moment, then settled into a yellow line.

"Right then," Malfoy said and Harry had to smile, because despite his outside appearance, his fellow trapee sounded very relieved, which indicated that yes, he had been worried as well. "Beds here, toilet over there?"

It was a question and it was not, it was clear that Malfoy expected nothing else but Harry's agreement. Lucky for Draco, Harry saw absolutely no reason to argue, so they started dragging chairs and cabinets into the area behind the yellow line to transfigure them into whatever they needed. Half an hour later, Harry plopped down on his newly made bed; exhausted, but rather triumphant as well. Malfoy made a beeline for the toilet in the other corner and Harry felt an odd sense of loss when – for the first time in hours – a closed door created a barrier between him and Malfoy. That was quickly remedied by Malfoy's voice drifting over towards him, though.

"Potter, you call this a toilet! It's abysmal!"

"What's wrong with it? Doesn't it work?" Harry called back, getting up from the bed and moving nearer to the loo. Not that he could do anything while Malfoy was in there.

"It's standard porcelain, and the washbasin is too! And the taps are metal! Potter, you transfigured it into the standard Ministry toilet! Why in Merlin's name would you want to make another one of those dreadful contraptions?" Malfoy sounded decidedly upset with the whole arrangement, but Harry couldn't – for the life of him – figure out what was wrong with the Ministry's toilets. Granted, they were a bit smaller than his own at home, but still… It all fell into place when he dropped back down on his bed and heard the crinkle of satin sheets. He looked around at the intricately carved decorations on the oak posters and the velvet drapes that would give him and Malfoy some measure of privacy, and he understood. Or, more precisely, he didn't.

"Oh come on, Malfoy! You don't need to piss in marble and wash your hands under a golden tap!" Harry exclaimed. It was preposterous really; they were trapped in a room with a magical bomb and Malfoy was complaining about the toilet.

"I don't see why I should work with anything less," Malfoy argued as he got out of the bathroom. "But never you mind that now, what's done is done." He walked over to the table and brought over the trays of food.

"Let's at least indulge in a decent meal, shall we?" he said as he expectantly lifted the lid of the big pot on the second tray. The way his nose wrinkled as he looked into it made Harry fear for another tantrum.

"What on earth is that?" Malfoy asked as he shoved the pot under Harry's nose. And Harry had to admit that the brown-reddish substance facing him looked rather horrid, but a happy smile spread across his face as he inhaled.

"It's Ron's cabbage stew. It looks disgusting, but trust me it tastes like a slice of heaven," he told Malfoy in a tone that might suggest he was making plans with a fellow conspirator. Malfoy still looked doubtful, but as Harry dug up plates and cutlery and happily dug in, he shrugged and followed suit.

"Huh, it's actually edible," Draco sounded as surprised as he looked. Harry simply shot him a knowing smile, not willing to sacrifice the wonderful taste in his mouth to comment on Draco's underestimation of Ron's cooking skills. Quite possibly any skill Ron might posses, actually.

With food in their stomachs and beds made for them, they finally started to feel the exhaustion, so after Harry wrote a short report for Kingsley to test the copying quills, they awkwardly stripped to their boxers and hurried under the covers.

Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of chairs being dragged around. Disoriented, not understanding why chairs would be dragged around in his own house, but noticing that his bed was very comfortable this morning, Harry lazily opened one eye to peek at the sound. And nearly fell out of bed when he was met with the vision of Malfoy busily moving furniture in nothing but his boxers.

"M'foy, what're you doing?" Harry asked, half muffled by his oversized pillow. Malfoy brandished his wand –Harry tried very hard not to think about where it might have come from – and half turned towards him.

"Good morning to you too," he corrected Harry's manners, before explaining. "I realized we forgot the shower yesterday and figured I'd remedy the situation, before you come up with something as dismal as the toilet."

Harry's befuddled mind didn't register the insult laced in Malfoy's speech, or he would've surely reacted. As it was, he clambered out of the bed and made his way to the toilet Malfoy had complained about so much to relieve himself. When he got back out, he nearly walked into the newly transfigured and now steaming shower. He shook his head good naturedly, wondered about that for a second, and then went about getting dressed. He was just putting on his suit jacket, now severely wrinkled, when Ciannait popped into the room again, holding two trays of what Harry assumed was breakfast.

"Morning, Ciannait," Harry greeted the small creature and took the trays from him.

"Good morning, Harry Potter, sir. Mistress Granger wishes I ask if you need anything?" the house elf answered cheerfully, sounding far too awake by Harry's measures. He was thinking about what else they might need when Malfoy stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel. Harry turned away so fast he almost pulled a tendon in his neck, a burning blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Could you perhaps collect a clean set of clothes for me and mister Malfoy?" he requested. Ciannait nodded, smiling happily and popped out of the room again. Harry busied himself with breakfast to give Malfoy some time to get dressed.

"Liked what you saw there, Potter?" his nemesis asked as he joined Harry at the table. Harry blushed again, feeling stupid, because there was really no reason to go all red, now was there? Malfoy didn't even know he swung both ways. Or did he? And why on earth would it matter? He hated the git!

"Not particularly," Harry lied without looking up from his food. He quickly cleaned his plate and ducked into the shower, bravely ignoring Malfoy's snickering. It was unfair, he reasoned while under the steaming water: he was perfectly comfortable hating Malfoy, there was no reason calling a temporary truce because they happened to be trapped in a bombed room, should change that in the slightest. But he had to admit – keeping to the rule of being honest with himself and all that – that he got along with Malfoy fairly well when he was not trying to find a reason to bitch at him. Harry stuck his head under the hot water and stubbornly ignored the part of his mind that was thinking about Malfoy, focusing on the investigation instead.

When he got out of the shower, he was all business again, dragging more chairs to the safe end of the room. Malfoy, who had flopped down on his bed again after finishing his own breakfast, lost his look of boredom and sat up.


	4. Chapter 3 DUO

**Author**: Magicallioness  
**Title:** EVEN – Chapter 3 Duo  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, mentioning of Dennis Creevey/Hannah Abbott  
**Story** **Summary:** Harry and Draco have been trapped inside the Ministry of Magic by the magical equivalent of a bomb. Stuck in close quarters, they have to find a way to set aside their differences, disable the bomb, get the culprit oh, and not die of boredom.  
**Chapter Summary:** "What?" he asked, voice betraying discomfort. "Do I have something on my nose?"  
"No," Harry answered without thinking, all his brain capacity used up to process the image before him. "Your eyes, they're extraordinary. The colour I mean, it's like stardust."  
**Rating:** for the whole story: R, possibly even NC-17, for Chapter 3: PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warning(s):** eloquent Harry (yes, really)  
**Epilogue compliant?** most certainly not  
**Word Count:** 5.808  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks to the wonderful person called 97swan songs, who is a lightning fast beta and sacrificed way too much of her time for this story. Remaining mistakes are most certainly mine. Constructive criticism and reviews are so very welcome. And of course enjoy!

Chapter 3 Duo

Harry stepped back and looked at the crime board he'd created: his and Malfoy's name and age were on the left side under the heading 'victim', together with a list of specifics about them that could be relevant to the case, like their professions and how they were linked to each other; Hogwarts, the Ministry, even the war. In the middle was the suspect list, with all the things they knew about the culprit so far. And to the right was a mess of sticky notes with questions, remarks and other things Harry had thought of whilst making the crime board. Crawling between the different parts of the board and sticky notes were colored magical arrows: red, green, black, all glowing at different strengths. In short, it was a mess.

"Merlin's balls, Potter. If this is what it looks like in your head, it's a wonder you've not gone off the deep end yet," Malfoy supplied as he took in the board. "And why are the arrows glowing?"

"This is what a crime board looks like, Malfoy. No need to be derogatory just because you don't understand it," Harry snapped. Granted, it really was a wonder he hadn't gone off the deep end, but his crime board had nothing to do with it. Nothing like being at the centre of a war during childhood to give your brain a nice big push towards lala-land. He waved his wand at the board and all the information belonging to the words Draco Malfoy glowed, and then slid under the name. The words under Harry Potter did the same, as did the information under the suspect heading. The sticky notes folded themselves into neat stacks attached to the board. The arrows all arranged themselves to the correct place and connections, stretching or shrinking as needed, forming a colorful bundle of glowing nerves. "It's a magical crime board, Malfoy. It organizes itself. I can open every category at the flick of a wand. The board measures the strength of the connections between victim, suspect and crime scene: the brighter the glow of the arrow, the stronger the connection."

Malfoy actually looked impressed. "And why is 'knows about victims' involvement in same case' underlined?"

"According to the crime board, that's the best point to start the investigation as it's likely to have the smallest scope," Harry answered, as he sat down to write his initial findings to the aurors on the other side of the door. "I'm requesting the aurors to make a list of everyone who knew about our involvement in the investigation into the attack on the Russells. Did you tell anyone about it?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I'm only allowed to see my parents for an hour once a month and we have more important things to talk about during that time than my work. I meet Pansy and some other friends after work on occasion, but we rarely talk shop. I'm certain we didn't discuss this case."

Harry frowned. The culprit must've learned about their mutual involvement in it somehow. "What about colleagues? Notes?"

"My notes are not secret, they are on my desk all day, but I lock them away once I leave the office. Anyone in the potions department could have read them, though," Malfoy explained.

Harry sighed. This was going to be a very long and tiring investigation.

"All right, I discussed the case with Ron and Hermione, the aurors know about it too, of course. I'll ask for a list of your colleagues that were in during the days you worked on that potion as well. And then we'll work from there," Harry concluded and started scribbling on the parchment.

"I'll try to configure a kind of potions lab in the meantime, see if I can figure out what's under that door," Malfoy answered and immediately put his words into action. Harry allowed himself a secret smile to the parchment he was currently bent over. It seemed Malfoy had changed his tune relatively quickly when forced to face the facts and – more surprisingly – he was turning out to be rather helpful.

They were working away in an unusually companionable silence when Harry noticed writing appearing on the second stack of parchment, placed on the end of the round table that was outside the spell's sphere of influence. He recognized Hermione's neat script.

_Good morning,_

_Recovered both notes about the War Room meeting and sent them off for analysis. Could easily spot they were written by the same person. Shame you don't recognize each other's handwriting. Parkinson promised to put her best handwriting analyst on it._

_Working on spell analyses atm. Have a hunch about conflicting feedback the detection spells gave you. Will come back to that as soon as I know more. Kingsley asked me to inform you that aurors Creevey and Thomas are out collecting a list of names of people that knew of your involvement in the Russell's case. Auror Aleka will analyse the list and report to you what she finds. _

_You two behave,_

_Hermione_

Malfoy had stopped what he was doing while Harry read the note and was now bent over the note himself, his shoulder nearly touching Harry's, strands of impossibly blond hair falling down to frame his face. Harry – made uncomfortable by the other man's proximity – glanced sideways and was startled by the sight of Malfoy's eyes. He'd never known they were such a pale blue, almost colourless, blank sheets conveying an invitation to imprint your soul upon them. Malfoy turned his head after he finished reading and caught Harry staring.

"What?" he asked, voice betraying discomfort. "Do I have something on my nose?"

"No," Harry answered without thinking, all his brain capacity used up to process the image before him. "Your eyes, they're extraordinary. The colour I mean, it's like stardust."

The expression on Malfoy's face was a study in contradictions: one eyebrow rose towards his hairline, leaving no doubt Malfoy believed Harry had gone off the deep end after all. But at the same time a slight pink hue appeared on his cheekbones. His mouth seemed unable to decide whether it should be smiling shyly or quirking sarcastically and it ended up in an uncomfortable looking grimace. Harry would've certainly laughed at Malfoy's expression, if he hadn't realized what he'd just said. Mortified, he hid his face in his hands and groaned, sagging in his chair.

"Oh hell, I'm sorry Malfoy, I don't know why I said that. Forget it ok? Being locked up in this room is seriously fucking with my brain."

"I'll say," Malfoy said, embarrassing Harry further. He would likely have felt better if he could've seen the smile lingering on Malfoy's lips.

"So, notes written by the same person, huh? Seems more and more like we were set up by someone on the inside, doesn't it?" Malfoy changed the subject as he got a scraper and vial from his potions lab and made his way over to the door to get a sample. Harry gladly jumped at the opportunity and raised his head from his hands.

"It does, but let's not jump to conclusions. We'll see what the aurors' list brings us," he said. Malfoy nodded and divided the scrapings between different vials on his desk, then added some kind of fluid to each of them. He turned and sat down next to Harry, who stubbornly stared ahead, determined not to make the same mistake twice.

"So," Malfoy started.

"Hm?"

"Want to try one of those boxes Hermione had Ciannait bring in?"

Harry agreed on the premises that he'd get to choose the game and settled down to play, convinced he could beat Malfoy at the Game of Life.

"Oh bollocks, now I have to marry to her!" Malfoy exclaimed as he inspected the card he'd just drawn. He looked decidedly unhappy about the prospect. Harry fought a double battle against the urge to giggle and the irritation that was bubbling in his chest, because he was losing to Malfoy.

"That means you're winning, Malfoy. The objective is to have a successful life," he explained to the man sitting two chairs away from him, looking miserable. Malfoy glared at him.

"I don't see how marrying a bint with no prospects will help with achieving that goal," he grumbled, putting his puppet down in the appropriate place on the board. "And I don't see why the damn game doesn't work."

"It's a Muggle game, Malfoy, there's nothing in it that's supposed to work. And I'd say marrying the love of your life is a rather good step to becoming happy," Harry said. He didn't fully understand why, but Malfoy's words angered him for some reason.

"Happy? What does that have to do with anything?" Malfoy countered and realization hit Harry like a bucket of cold water after a hot shower. It trickled down his neck and made him rather uncomfortable.

"You think being successful has nothing to do with being happy? And that your wife should add to your status and fortune, never mind if you love her or not? That's… archaic and possibly barbaric," Harry exclaimed. Malfoy arched an eyebrow, a most disapproving look on his face.

"It's the way purebloods do it, Potter," he said icily, as if that made it all ok. Harry went from reasonable to indignant.

"That doesn't make it right! Don't you want to marry the person you love?" he blurted, then snapped his mouth shut. What did he care? Besides, he doubted Malfoy was even capable of loving someone. Scratch that; he doubted that two days ago, now, he was not so sure and Malfoy looked… sad, somehow.

"It doesn't matter, nobody would have me now, anyway," his voice was soft, almost a whisper and the words sounded like they hurt him. Harry felt an irrational surge of pity as understanding dawned on him. If status and fortune mattered in a bride, they likely mattered more in a groom and with both his parents in jail and his accounts frozen by the Ministry, Malfoy had nothing to offer.

"If she truly loved you, it wouldn't matter," Harry told him. Draco laughed darkly at that and the harsh sound echoed of the War Room's walls. It made Harry flinch.

"It would only complicate things," Malfoy said and the tone of his voice left no doubt that this conversation was over. Harry had lost all interest in the game they had been playing.

"Ciannait?" he called, hoping Hermione's house elf would hear him. Surely enough, the red haired creature popped into the room immediately. Harry asked him to get them lunch from the Ministry's kitchen. He wasn't all that hungry, but for some reason the conversation he'd just had with Malfoy disturbed him enough to make him want to get away from the other man for a while and having lunch seemed like a good hiding opportunity. He hadn't counted on Malfoy joining him.

"Potter, why are you so quiet?" he asked, while pouring the both of them some pumpkin juice. Harry unglued his eyes from the far wall he'd been staring at and sighed.

"Because it's all so fucked up," he answered, leaving the other man to frown at him.

"Vague much?"

Harry would've interpreted the sound of Malfoy's voice as irritated, but something about it was off. And Harry was too trained in listening to Malfoy's voice instead of his words not to hear it.

"I mean the way they've treated you and other Death Eater kids and families that were dragged into this war!" Harry burst out. "I'm not saying you didn't make bad choices or that you shouldn't have to pay for what you did, but this? This is not the world I fought for," he concluded and all the righteous anger seemed to rush out of him as he sagged back into his chair, lunch forgotten. It left him feeling tired and slightly depressed. Malfoy looked at him in dumbfounded shock. He was utterly incapable of finding words several seconds after Harry's little outburst, so he did the unthinkable: he reached across the table and put his hand on top of Harry's. Harry reacted as if he'd been struck by lightning and pulled his hand back so fast it made his shoulder pop. Malfoy looked thoughtfully at the empty spot on the table for a few moments before slowly retracting his hand.

"Sorry, I didn't expect that," Harry mumbled, but Malfoy shook his head. He looked up from the tabletop to Harry and to Harry, it seemed like – for the first time – Malfoy really saw him: Harry Potter, not The-Boy-Who-Lived or his school nemesis, not his source of infinite popularity, or an obstacle in his path, but just Harry.

"This is the world you've fought for, Harry. It's not perfect, no, but you can't fix everything. I should think you've done far more than can be expected of anyone, especially a child."

Harry stared and Malfoy stared right back, emerald green burning into pale blue, a sort of understanding forming between them, years of misconceptions, short sightedness and hatred shifting, morphing, taking a new place and leaving a blank to be filled anew.

"You called me Harry."

A small smile turned the corner of Malfoy's mouth upward and he seemed to relax a bit.

"And it wasn't all that bad. You should try it sometime," he said, then finally turned to his lunch. Harry did the same, chewing on his thoughts as much as on his food.

_I hope I'm not disturbing your lunch._

Harry shot up from his chair to read the text that was appearing on the parchment. Draco snorted at Hermione's introduction, but it was more amused than actually irritated.

_Happy to tell you I've been able to confirm my theory. The reason the detection spells gave you conflicting information is that it's not one spell on that door. There are two and they are linked in some way. Will spend the afternoon trying to find out which two and how they are linked. _

_Understand that Malfoy is working on analysing the potion he found under the door. _

"More like waiting for the bloody residue to dissolve so I can start," Malfoy commented.

_Please let me know what you find as soon as you've dissolved the residue, the potion might be linked to the spell the same way the spells are linked together._

Draco straightened abruptly and shot a bewildered look at Harry. Harry sniggered, possibly more because he'd thought Malfoy utterly incapable of bewilderment than because of what Hermione had written.

"Yeah, she's uncanny like that."

_Parkinson confirmed that the notes were written by the same person, her department is working on a profile. No news from the aurors yet, they have a lot of people to talk to._

_Hang in there,_

_Hermione_

Harry scribbled a short thank you note and walked over to the crime board. He attached a remark about the notes being written by the same person and another about the spell consisting of a combination of spells, then sat down in front of the board.

"Still doesn't mean the note-writer is also the spell caster," Draco remarked as he came to stand behind Harry.

"Indeed it doesn't. But the note-writer might lead us to the spell caster eventually," Harry answered, trying to ignore the way the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He'd been thick and stubborn, he mused, spending his energy on hating Draco. All it took was two days stuck together in a room and they'd put their differences aside – well, more or less – and were being civil to each other. None of this explained his strange reaction to Draco's proximity though and Harry resolutely refused to think on what might. It didn't matter anyway, as Draco had moved back to his configured potions lab and was busily pouring liquids into vials, heating up cauldrons and chopping up ingredients.

After staring at his crime board for almost twenty minutes and coming up with nothing – and surreptitiously glancing at his watch, which revealed Hermione to be 'at work, industrious like an ant', Ginny 'safely at home' and Ron 'at work, slacking off' – Harry walked over to Draco and asked if he could be of any help.

"Potions was never your strong suit, was it?" Draco asked, but it wasn't unfriendly or judging, simply a request for confirmation of facts. Harry ruefully shook his head.

"I'm honestly not sure if I simply suck at it or if my standing with Snape had anything to do with it," he answered. Draco chuckled, while he reached for another cutting board and knife.

"Snape really did hate your guts, didn't he?" The cutting tools were placed next to Draco's own.

"And he still saved my life. I wonder to this day if he hated me for who I was, what I was supposed to be or because he believed I was responsible for the death of my mother," Harry accepted the Chinese chomping cabbage, whacked it unconscious of the edge of his board, and reached for his knife. Draco froze in place.

"Snape thinks you killed your mother?" Harry sighed and put the knife back down. He'd have to explain all of it now, his mother and Snape, her death, why he'd had the power to kill Voldemort. Surprise pushed out a lung full of air through his nose when he realized that he actually didn't mind telling Draco these things.

"How do you want me to cut this?" he asked, giving the cabbage a light shake. It was a cheap way of stalling for time, but he needed a moment to figure out where to begin this story.

"Split in half across the length then cut into centimetre long pieces," Draco instructed. Harry decided that it really didn't matter where he started or how, as the whole story needed to be told anyway, and launched into explaining Snape's full involvement in his life.

By the time he was done, he'd cut up three more ingredients as per Draco's instructions and the other wizard was staring at him. Confused by his own blushing, Harry cast down his eyes, pretending to see something mightily interesting on his cutting board.

"Well now, that blows," Draco concluded after long minutes of silence and Harry couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Long, deep hauls of laughter, coming from so far within, it might as well have turned him inside out – which would, incidentally, explain why he was behaving like an idiot. But Draco didn't seem to mind, in fact, he was looking at Harry with a slightly lopsided smile, gently shaking his head.

"You're a weird one," he concluded and turned back to his work. Harry smiled at that, but got distracted by more text appearing on the answering parchment, before he could comment on that. It was not Hermione's handwriting this time, but a large script with round letters.

_Good day sirs,_

_Pleased to inform that investigation of subjects is well underway. Questioning of Potions Department completed. Only Adrian Bagman and Hannah Abott are competent enough with spells and potions to combine them and know of Master Malfoy's involvement in the Russels' case. Will look into their history; see if either of them have reasons to want both of you dead.  
Meanwhile, Creevey and Balendin are questioning the aurors. Shall report back as soon as I have more news._

_Auror Aleka_

Harry almost sighed in relief; at least that narrowed down the list of suspects from the Potions Department. He wrote the names on the crime board and turned to Draco.

"Any thoughts on your colleagues Bagman and Abbott?" he asked. Draco was inspecting the contents of one of the vials; holding it up into the light and peering into the liquid, while making the bluish fluid go around in controlled swirls with gentle wrist movements. After a moment, he set the vial down in its holder and turned to Harry.

"Well, I'm sure you remember as well as I do that Adrian's father and grandfather were used in Voldemort's intelligence network. Apparently without knowing it; Rookwood was a clever one and old friend of the family. Unless the aurors were mistaken before and they knew very well what they were doing _and_ Bagman's son picked up where they left off, I don't think there's anything else to Adrian but a damn good Potions Master," Draco answered, walking over to read the parchment for himself. Harry nodded and added another sticky note about the Bagman family history to the board.

"And what about Hannah Abbott?" he pushed a little. Harry knew this wasn't fun for Draco; suspecting the people you work with on a daily basis of wanting you dead did not make you feel very comfortable, or safe for that matter. But this was the only way to get to the bottom of this investigation. Draco sighed and walked back to his potions.

"Other than the fact that she's screwing auror Creevey, I really don't know much about her. But as I recall her mother was killed by Death Eaters. That would give her reason to want me dead I guess, but not you. Besides, she's always been very civil to me," Draco explained.

"Who else knows about Abbott and Creevey?" Harry asked. Draco turned his head and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly questioning the relevance of this subject. "People have done weirder things to prevent affairs from getting discovered."

"It's not an affair; neither of them is involved with anyone else. I caught them kissing in the potions lab after ours a couple of weeks ago and they asked me to keep it quiet because relationships at work are not encouraged by the Ministry. I told them I would and I have. I highly doubt either of them would want to kill me over it, besides, that still doesn't give them reason to kill you," Draco argued. Harry nodded.

"You're probably right, but we have to keep all options open anyway, even the unlikely ones," he said as he noted the relationship between Dennis Creevey and Hannah Abbott on the board. "Also, the Death Eaters allegedly murdered Hannah's mother, we're not sure." Draco waved his hand in the air in a rather effective gesture of 'yeah, yeah', too absorbed in his potions to care. Harry sauntered over as he had nothing better to do.

"Anything yet?" he asked. Draco spared him a glance out of the corner of his eye, but didn't pause what he was doing.

"Well, so far I've been able to detect traces of aconite and belladonna, but that doesn't tell me anything on its own, I need to find out what the other ingredients are," Draco supplied, stirring the concoction in the cauldron. Harry watched as Draco worked. He cut up and measured potion ingredients with meticulous precision, checking and double checking the amounts. He monitored the heat of the fire under the cauldron sharply, increasing or decreasing it as necessary, tweaking it with little changes at a time. Harry marvelled at how Draco could do all this, while keeping exact time of what ingredient to add when to the cauldron and working on the different vials at the same time. He also noticed the grace in Draco's movements, but quickly shoved that realization down somewhere where it wouldn't surface anytime soon. Instead, he focussed on observing his fellow prisoner. And it wasn't until Ciannait popped in with their dinner that Harry realized he'd been watching Draco work for over an hour.

He'd also missed the new reports that came in and retrieved the pieces of parchment so he and Draco could read them over dinner.

_Hi,_

_I'm certain one of the spells on the door is a ward; the other is possibly a blasting curse. Can confirm this tomorrow. Please do not, under any circumstances, open that door. If I'm right, the blasting curse is strong enough to blow up a big part of the Ministry. Haven't been able to find out how the spells are linked, but the ward is set to both your magical signatures and has been reversed (that means it goes off when you exit instead of when you enter). Our culprit is very inventive.  
I'll have Ciannait bring over dinner later. Hope you don't mind pasta, I don't have much time to cook tonight and Ron is on stake-out. They are checking out Bagman and Abbott's behaviour after hours._

_Enjoy your dinner. I will have more news tomorrow._

_Hermione_

"One of the spells on the door is a ward, set to both our magical signatures and inverted, so it goes off when we exit," Harry reported. Draco looked up from the report he was reading, both eyebrows raised in an expression that seemed to convey admiration.

"Granger managed to figure that out in one day? I'm actually impressed," he said, a ponderous look gliding over his features.

"That's not all," Harry answered with a smile and proceeded to explain the rest of Hermione's report. Draco listened intently and Harry tried with all his might to fight off the heat that was creeping into his cheeks when he realized Draco's gaze was focussed on him. He didn't relax until Draco looked down at the parchment he was holding.

"Aleka reports that Williamson, Savage and Bones are capable of creating this magical bomb. She's rounding up the best researchers in the department to get into their history. She also writes Weasley and Pansy are off the hook on account of being horrible with potions," there was a smile playing around Draco's lips and Harry had to wonder whether it was because it was mentioned that Ron was bad at something or because he was glad Parkinson was not a suspect. "Granger is considered capable of the magic involved, but she has voluntarily handed in her wand for checking, so she's an unlikely suspect."

Harry shook his head at that; it was so typical of Hermione to play by the rules, even if she was the suspect herself. He was one hundred percent certain she had nothing whatsoever to do with this. He picked up the next piece of parchment and blinked a couple of times at the sheer amount of text that had been fitted on it in small, even handwriting.

"This is the profile Parkinson's team made of the culprit. Word use indicates the perp is highly educated; all letters seem to have been written using the same pressure on the quill which suggests the writer was calm when jotting down the note. And the writer is most likely right-handed according to the slant of the letters," Harry summarized the profile. Draco's scowl matched his own, as the profile really didn't give them much to go on, especially since it was still unclear whether the note had even been written by the actual culprit. "Ah, they've also tried to match the handwriting on the notes to that of all suspects questioned by the aurors. No hits. There's a message going around the Ministry too, whoever wrote the notes is asked to report to the aurors. At least trickery can be ruled out this way," Harry reasoned, putting the paper down next to his now empty plate.

"And it seems more likely that the culprit actually wrote the notes himself, cheeky bastard," Malfoy said. Harry nodded. It seemed their attacker not only knew his way around the Ministry, but was secure enough around the wards and protection spells to write two notes, have them delivered _and_ place a complicated magical bomb on the door of the War Room.

"I can't believe the bloody git simply walked back out after what he did," Harry fumed. Malfoy grimaced his agreement.

"Didn't the Ministry improve security during the overhaul?" he asked, sounding slightly indignant.

"No security is airtight, especially not if there's help from within," Harry answered grimly, before putting up notes on his crime board. He was about to walk away when one of the connection arrows caught his eye.

"What?" Draco wanted to know, but Harry motioned for silence with one hand and just stared at the board for a long time. When he finally turned around, there was a line to his mouth and hardness to his eyes that Draco recognized from all the times that look had been turned on him: steely determination.

"I believe we're looking for a Pureblood," Harry said. His voice was carefully neutral, the speaker weary of setting Draco off. It was no use.

"What?! Oh come on, Potter, that's just cheap, even for the likes of you! First you sprout all that crap about this not being the world you fought for and now you happily jump to blaming Purebloods at the first opportunity?" Harry bristled, quite a lot actually, but he fought to keep his composure. One of the hard lessons he'd learned as an auror was that losing his temper and mouthing off did not help to get his point across; rather, it got one quite a ways along to accomplish the opposite.

"Please, Draco, give me some credit. I'm trying to look at the facts and I won't go around blaming anyone without proper proof, but the facts seem to be pointing in the direction of a Pureblood wizard," he tried to reason with the other man. Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest and leant back in his chair, his face drawn into a haughty expression that implied he was the better man for listening to the rubbish Harry was obviously going to sprout.

"Alright, lets hear the facts then, _auror Potter_."

Biting back his anger once again, Harry focussed on what he had learned about calming down a defensive suspect. He relaxed his posture and put his hands on his knees, palms facing upwards, showing he was not carrying any weapons. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to let the anger flow out of him on the exhale, while pulling his face into an expression as neutral as he could manage. Draco was not a suspect, but he certainly was defensive, so the techniques might work anyway. When Harry finally spoke, he tried to keep his voice level and friendly.

"The perpetrator has had high level education; we can conclude that from both the profile and his expertise with spells and potions. Pureblood families pride themselves on sending their children to the best wizarding schools around the world." Harry didn't explain that this was because the Pureblood families – with exceptions of course – still considered themselves to be the elite of the magical society, and providing your children with the best education possible was both a way to show off and to ensure that they would stay the elite. Saying that out loud would simply give Draco ammunition to accuse him of being prejudiced against Purebloods.

"That's hardly a crime, Potter and it certainly doesn't implicate Purebloods in this case," Draco argued, but his tone was less aggressive than before. Harry nodded his agreement to Draco's statement.

"Actually, I consider ensuring your children have the best education possible to be good parenting," he explained, trying to emphasis positive points in the conversation to get Draco to open up to his arguments. "And high level education doesn't make someone a criminal of course; it's simply one of the things that lead me to believe the perp is a Pureblood."

Draco nodded his acceptance and motioned for Harry to continue his argument. It didn't escape Harry's notice that Draco's hands landed in his lap this time and not across his chest.

"The fact that the culprit is this good with spells and potions is another indication he might be a Pureblood; Pureblood families tend to emphasise these subjects in education, right?" Harry asked for confirmation again. Draco would know, he came from one of the most notorious of Pureblood lines after all. The other man nodded in silence, but he still looked highly sceptical. Harry didn't blame him.

"Furthermore, even though Muggle-born children can easily posses the same magical talents as all other wizards, being involved in the Wizarding World from an early age, gives non-Muggle-borns a head start in understanding how magic works. This shows especially in the subjects of spell casting and potions. So it's unlikely our guy is Muggle-born," Harry went on. He knew iterating that Muggles were just as talented as Pureblood wizards might annoy Draco, but his admission that Purebloods generally had a better chance at becoming exceptional wizards should offset that. Or so he theorized.

"Muggle-borns like Granger are the exception, yes," Draco agreed. "But that still leaves us with all non-Muggles, not just Purebloods."

"Indeed. But as much as you could argue that every wizard in existence today could have reasons to bring down the Ministry of Magic a notch, you have to admit that Purebloods have more reason to dislike this institution than any other group. Moreover, they have a history of doing so," Harry tried to cut the grass away from under Draco's feet. His former nemesis looked at him in a way that could be translated as admiration, but Harry figured he was simply misreading Draco.

"If you add to the list that Purebloods also have ample reason to hate both you and me and the fact that they have traditionally been a big part of the workforce of the Ministry of Magic and therefore could have more knowledge of its lay-out and security protocols, you can't deny that the arrows seem to be pointing towards a Pureblood," Harry concluded. Draco's expression had turned from haughty to ponderous, a slight wrinkle drawn between his brows.

"Huh, you've become quite eloquent since our schooldays, Harry," was the first thing out of his mouth. Harry had to laugh; it was as close to a compliment as Draco would ever come, he guessed.

"It took much time and practice," he grinned his own version of a thank you.

"I can imagine," Draco couldn't resist to jibe, but there was no venom in it, just friendly playfulness. "I have to admit you have a point. All your so called 'facts' are assumptions and theorizing, but they don't sound entirely outlandish. In fact, as the case we were working on is an attack on Muggles and the most important thing that you, I and the Ministry have in common is that we've put Death Eaters away, I'd say we're looking for a Death Eater or at least a Voldemort supporter."

Harry heaved a deep sigh as he noted both of their conclusions on the crime board. "I can't believe, after all that monster did, some people would still support him. I'd understand fear, but he's dead for Merlin's sake."

"People've been told that before, Harry."


	5. Chapter 4 EQUAL EXODUS

**Author**: Magicallioness  
**Title:** EVEN – Chapter 4 Equal Exodus  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, mentioning of Dennis Creevey/Hannah Abbott.  
**Story** **Summary:** Harry and Draco have been trapped inside the Ministry of Magic by the magical equivalent of a bomb. Stuck in close quarters, they have to find a way to set aside their differences, disable the bomb, get the culprit oh, and not die of boredom.  
**Chapter Sumary:** Coloured lights were flashing over his head; orange, blue and green, the air was heavy with screams; deep screams of anger and vengeance, but mostly the sharp exclamations of blind fear. Blind, for the night was pitch black and Harry had no idea where he was.  
**Rating:** for the whole story: R, for Chapter 4: R (huzzah!)  
**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warning(s):** too much smut, not enough plot  
**Epilogue compliant?** most certainly not  
**Word Count:** 4.846  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks to 97swan songs over at LJ, who did not shy away from promising 14k worth of betaing in two days and managed to Brit pick while she was at it. Remaining mistakes are most certainly mine. Constructive criticism and reviews are so very welcome.  
And last, enjoy!

Chapter 4 Equal Exodus

Since Draco had to prepare more potions residue for testing and Harry had nothing better to do, the trapped wizards sat down for yet another evening of board games. Draco – not surprisingly – struck it rich in Monopoly and jokingly offered Harry a room in one of his hotels as he bankrupted his opponent. Harry took revenge by unmasking the murderer in Cluedo before Draco had even found the murder weapon or location, twice. But they seemed more or less equally matched in wizard's chess. They'd been at it for over an hour and there was no sign of either of them winning.

Harry yawned and stretched, unwitting of the interest with which Draco peeked at the line of creamy flesh showing under his shirt, and tried to focus on the game. He'd formulated a perfect attack plan, but Draco'd seen him coming and had pushed him on the defensive. Draco had to be tired as well though, because two turns ago, he'd made a mistake by sacrificing his knight – Harry's rook had mercilessly crushed it - and now they were on even ground once again.

"How about we put the game aside for tonight? I'm beat," Harry admitted. Draco rubbed his eyes and got up from the table.

"Agreed," he said and made his way to the bathroom. Harry noted it should piss him off mightily that Draco just assumed he'd get first go in the shower, but it didn't. He was still wondering about that when a loud crash had him up and at the bathroom door within a second.

"Draco, you alright?" he called out, barely avoiding a head on collision with the still closed door. Which was a good thing, because whilst it might've been configured from a piece of parchment or a quill, it was now very much a door and therefore just as solid as one.

"Yeah, yeah, toppled the bin is all," Draco answered as he opened the door and stepped out. And Harry stared. For Draco was wearing nothing but his black silk boxers, and the amount of milky white skin, stretched taut over sleek muscles that betrayed Draco Malfoy still regularly played Quidditch, thank you very much, was simply too much for Harry's brain to process. Draco stepped around him with a knowing smirk.

"See anything you like, Harry?" he asked, just before stepping into his bed. The only answer he got was a 'click' as Harry locked the bathroom door behind him.

Coloured lights were flashing over his head; orange, blue and green, the air was heavy with screams; deep screams of anger and vengeance, but mostly the sharp exclamations of blind fear. Blind, for the night was pitch black and Harry had no idea where he was. He tried to fight down the panic rising in his chest as he found he could not move, tried to breathe, only to find something heavy was pressing on his chest. He heard footsteps thundering by, but didn't dare to make a sound, because he couldn't be sure whether they belonged to friend or foe. He tried to move again, succeeded in turning his head this time and looked straight into the dead eyes of Fred Weasley. Harry screamed. And heard his own name in answer. It was being called out in the distance one, two, three times. The earth under him started moving like a great snake was burrowing through it and Harry bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat and staring wide eyed into the concerned face of one Draco Malfoy.

"Harry, calm down, you had a nightmare, it was just a nightmare," Draco spoke soothingly, while Harry fought to get his ragged breathing under control. He wiped the moist strands of hair out of his face with trembling fingers, thankful that Draco's hands were still steadily gripping his shoulders from shaking him awake. And then his mind came back to him. He looked up at Draco, mortified that the other wizard had seen him like this. He was twenty seven years old for fucks sake, twenty seven year old men didn't get freaked out by nightmares. Only _he_ did, not as often anymore, but enough times during the month that he kept a dreamless sleep potion handy whenever he went to sleep, just in case. It shamed him and even though they were now civil to each, but Draco Malfoy was still not someone he wanted to share this with.

"What were you dreaming about?" Draco asked, his voice surprisingly gentle, holding no trace of mockery or contempt. And here Harry had half expected to be ridiculed.

"The battle of Hogwarts," he explained. Harry noticed that Draco looked much softer than usual. His hair was slightly mussed from his pillow and his eyes were swollen with sleep. It made Harry feel much safer somehow. Or perhaps that was just because Draco was still holding onto his shoulders. In any case, Harry felt the shiver that ran through the other wizard at the mention of that specific battle.

"Do you…" Draco hesitated. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry thought about that for a minute. He disliked talking about anything related to the war in general, but he wasn't stupid. He understood that these things needed to be processed, so he'd talked about it. With his friends, because The-Boy-Who-Lived couldn't very well go to the psych department of St. Mungo's and obviously a Muggle psychiatrist was out of the question. He didn't have a dreamless sleep potion handy at the moment and he knew from experience that going back to sleep without it would bring the nightmares back. Maybe talking _would_ help.

"It's never like the battle really was, just my worst memories of it: the fear, the chaos, the screams," Harry paused for a moment, trying to get his voice in order. "The friends that died."

He stilled in shock as he felt arms envelop him and a soft voice speaking in his ear.

"I'm sorry, Harry." Then, after a pause. "For everything."

A shiver ran through Harry at those words, at the sheer amount of feeling that lay hidden behind them and as the message sunk in, something in him gave way. He reached out, pulling the warm, strong body that was already so close against him and, when he felt no resistance, buried his face in the crook of Draco's neck. They sat like that for a long time, until Harry finally pulled away.

"I'm sorry I didn't understand," he told Draco softly. "I'm sorry that I didn't want to."

Draco smirked at him. "Does that mean we're done with the sappy part now?"

Harry whacked him on the arm and laughed. "Yes, you prat. We can go back to sleep."

When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, Draco was no longer in the bed next to him. Feeling around for his glasses and scrambling out from under the covers, Harry realized it must've been late. Whenever he had a nightmare during the week, getting up in time for work was a struggle and he'd feel tired and worn out all day. Right now, he felt as rested as any other morning after a good night's sleep.

"Morning, sleepy head!" Draco called as Harry sat down for his breakfast. The Potions Master was seated behind the desk filled with vials and ingredients, measuring out some kind of fluid. His greeting sounded friendly enough, but Harry couldn't get rid of the feeling that some kind of jibe was covered under the words. In the end he mumbled a return greeting and busied himself with his food.

"Aha!" Draco called out a few minutes later, causing Harry to almost choke on his eggs. "You _are_ an inventive little bastard, but not inventive enough. I got you!"

"What, what've you found?" Harry asked as he hurriedly got up from the table. Draco greeted him by holding up a vial filled with blue coloured liquid. "Adapted blood replenishing potion."

Harry stared, uncomprehending. "Blood replenishing potion? How on earth would that help the bomber reach his goals?"

Draco turned back to the desk and started cleaning out the cauldron. "Adapted, Harry, adapted. He's changed the recipe so the potion doesn't replenish the blood, but sucks it out instead. Hand me some boomslang fangs, will you?"

Harry searched between the jars, satchel and pots of ingredients until he'd found what Draco had asked of him. "Suck out the blood? Like a vampire?"

"No, you dolt – although he did use vampire blood as a component, very smart that. I assume the perp used the potion to make sure we die when the spells go off. It reacts to any kind of open wound, sucking the blood out from it so it cannot heal until the potion is removed," Draco explained, as he resumed collecting ingredients.

"Can you neutralize it?" Harry asked, voice laden with expectation. He started at the fact that he was actually dependent on the help of Draco Malfoy now, but didn't seem to care. He felt perfectly confident that Draco could do it.

"I do believe I can, but I'll need some time," Draco confirmed. Harry left Draco to work and sat down to report their progress to the aurors and read whatever had been sent their way.

"It seems Bagman has broken off all connections with the Rookwood family and his behaviour seemed perfectly normal," he reported to Draco, who gave nothing but a non-committal hum in answer. Harry rolled his eyes at such disinterest in the investigation.

"And ha! Hermione was correct about the second spell, it is a blasting curse, Confringo to be exact. She's working on finding out how the spells are linked so she can disarm them." Draco did turn away from his work at that, a relieved and – to Harry's opinion – rather beautiful smile on his face.

"Tell her to look at the point of contact effect," Draco supplied. Harry blinked at him, but after a few moments, his mouth formed the 'o' of understanding.

"You mean you think since all these spells react as they make contact with the target, that's the point where the magic is linked?"

"Harry Potter! Did you actually manage to grow a brain since Hogwarts?" Draco seemed genuinely surprised by the fact that Harry had actually understood what he was on about. If he was honest with himself, Harry had to admit that he was a bit miffed at that. He wasn't as smart as Hermione for sure, but he wasn't stupid.

"I've always had one. It's just that it's no longer thinking of ways to make your life miserable."

Draco lifted an eyebrow at that, the trademark arrogant look back on his face. "Perhaps," he iterated slowly. "We should work on busying your brain with other things concerning my life, yeah?"

Harry stared at Draco's for long minutes. The other wizard had turned back to his desk and was working on the neutralizing potion, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed the double meaning in Draco's remark once again. In the end, he simply shook his head and went back to the crime board to put up some notes.

Lunch had come and gone, Harry had devised and declined every possible theory about their attacker several times and still Draco was working on the potion.

"Draco, aren't you done yet?" he asked as he moved to hover behind the Potions Master.

"No, Potter, and I won't be any time soon either if you keep distracting me!" Draco snapped. Taken aback, Harry didn't answer at first.

"What the hell, Draco, I was just asking," he answered in the end, turning away. A hand around his wrist froze him in place.

"You're always 'just asking' or 'just reporting' or 'having a nightmare'. Everything you do is fucking innocent, Potter, but it's driving me bonkers just the same. I've been stuck in the same room with you for three days for Merlin's sake!"

Harry's brows lowered over his eyes, anger squaring his jaw. He didn't understand what Draco was on about at all, but he was very certain he'd done nothing to deserve this outburst.

"I've been trapped just as much as you have, Malfoy. That doesn't give you the right to mouth off like that for no reason. I thought we agreed on a truce!"

"What good does a fucking truce do me! We're still in this room, everything is completely backwards and utterly fucked up, and I- I revoke the stupid truce, Scarhead!"

Harry, utterly bewildered by Malfoy's sudden animosity, tried to yank his hand free from Malfoy's wrist. Only Malfoy didn't let go. Instead he tightened his grip and he was launched off of his chair, eyes wide, and mouth open in a silent exclamation of surprise. A shoulder connected with Harry's chest roughly, sending him sprawling backwards. A hand caught his arm, unbalancing the both of them as they came crashing down to the harsh, unforgiving ground and landed smack bang on top of each other.

Harry fought to blink away stars as the back of his head connected with the floor, bringing Malfoy's face back into focus. The git was looking at him as if he'd just sprouted another head, probably surprised Harry had managed to pull him of his chair. He was a bleeding auror, physical training was part of the job. Honestly, what else did Malfoy expect? Harry fought to get his arms under him and get up, but Malfoy pinned him down. Exercise being no match against body weight, Harry gave up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Malfoy? What do you want?" Harry bit of the words, whishing it was Malfoys head.

"This!" the other wizard exclaimed and smashed his lips onto Harry's. He made a fleeting noise of protest, but it was more out of shock than anything else, because he was certain that Draco's lips were the best thing he'd ever felt on his own. Without thinking, he opened his mouth, allowing the other man access and Draco didn't waste any time. It was a hungry kiss, full of long suppressed passion and angry acknowledgement. In all the haziness Harry realized that he'd wanted this for days, ever since they'd called truce and he'd seen Draco in a different light. It was like a wall between them had been broken down during their entrapment, at first brick by brick, then in chunks and now Draco'd had enough and taken a sledgehammer to it. He was writhing on top of Harry, sending delicious sparks of electricity through his entire body and Harry couldn't stop the moan that started in his belly button and climbed up his chest from escaping his mouth. He felt Draco's lips curl into a smile against his own.

And then they were gone, only to reappear at that spot behind his earlobe that drove him wild and Harry bucked his hips, pushing his growing erection into Draco, careless, inhibitions thrown aside in the face of all consuming lust. Draco pushed back, sliding, moving, adding hands that slid up and down his chest as Harry, once again, claimed that delicious mouth. The floor was hard and uncomfortable under him, but he didn't care, didn't notice, instead feeling the body on top of him; warm, strong, right. He used Draco's hair to pull his head back, licking a wet hot trail from the dip between his collarbones, all the way up to his left ear, giving a nibble to the lobe.

"Fuck, Harry," Draco panted above his head. "Don't start something you can't stop."

But Harry had no mind of stopping and he communicated this feeling by ripping open Draco's shirt, heedless of buttons pinging to the floor left and right, and then leaning down to suck on a nipple. He was delighted to hear Draco keen and feel the other mans hard cock rubbing against his own through their trousers. He pushed a hand between them to give it a squeeze and Draco growled.

"Enough," he breathed, making short work of Harry's shirt and raking nails across his chest. Forced to let go of Draco's nipple, Harry settled for grabbing his arse instead, adding pressure to the grinding movements Draco was making in a desperate search for release.

"Harry, stop," Draco grunted, fighting to get his hands between them. He finally found purchase on the button of Harry's uniform trousers, then pushed the down the zipper. Harry gasped when he felt Draco's hands on him, whatever the other man had said forgotten, even the most basic brain functions shut off for lack of blood. Draco had rolled onto his side so he had better access to palm Harry's cock and Harry made use of the space to wriggle out of his trousers.

"Off," he commanded, while putting his mouth to use all over Draco's face and neck. The other man tasted fantastic; cinnamon and soap and warm skin and Harry wanted more. Draco complied, then pulled Harry's boxers down as well and rolled back on top of him, both men gasping as their erections rubbed against each other.

Harry fleetingly noted that Draco must've done this before with other men, before all thought was eliminated by Draco pushing Harry's legs on either side of him and using his fingers to massage Harry's hole. Harry froze as the reality of the situation connected for a short moment. He was about to let Draco take him, dominate him. It was as close to surrender as one could get without saying the actual words. Draco had stilled as well, looking at Harry intently for any sign of protest. Harry looked up at him, saw lust and the need to posses swim in those grey eyes that had held only hatred for him for so many years. And he decided that he liked this look much better, that this was not the same person as the boy from Hogwarts. But what finally made all of his ok with Harry, was that he saw something else shimmer behind the want and need, something that could potentially be much bigger than either. Harry gave an almost imperceptible nod of acquiescence and everything in him focussed on the point where Draco's fingers had were touching him. Draco whispered a lubrication charm and pushed past the ring of muscle that still kept them apart.

"Relax," Draco panted, moving his index finger in and out of Harry in a calm, steady rhythm. But relaxing was the last thing on Harry's mind. His cock was throbbing, there was a solution to that within reach and he was out of patience. He pushed back on Draco's finger.

"Ngh, more!" he demanded, not caring that Draco chuckled; he was more concerned with the finger that the other man added. Harry tilted his head back and moaned at the delicious pressure as Draco scissored his fingers, stretching him.

"My, you're eager," Draco commented, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest, as Harry's hand came up and fisted Draco's cock. It was leaking pre-come and Harry used his thumb to spread it around the engorged head.

"H-hn, next time, you bottom," he demanded, never ceasing to impale himself on Draco's fingers. Draco, too preoccupied with what Harry was doing to his cock, agreed without thinking and curled one of his fingers upwards.

"Ga-haa! Merlin Draco, fuck me already," Harry was practically pleading, their current situation forgotten, everything focussed on what Draco was doing to his body. Draco removed his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his cock.

"Ready?" he asked. Harry lifted his hips in answer, increasing the pressure on his sternum and Draco pushed into him. Harry's hole spasmed, his cock jerked and the glistening liquid of his pre-come dripped onto his belly. It had been so long, too long, and he wanted Draco so very badly.

"Merlin, Harry, you're tight," Draco groaned, his voice uneven with the strain of keeping himself still. He was hovering above Harry, balancing on his arms. Salty sweat drops ran down the corded muscles outlined in his shoulders and chest, enticing Harry to lick at them. Harry burned, his hole was stretched tight, his skin was on fire with the electric shocks Draco's touch sent through him, his whole being was aflame with want for this person.

"_Move_ already," he growled, wriggling his ass in an effort to swallow more of Draco's cock. Draco gasped, once, twice and shut his eyes tight.

"Harry, please stop, I'm too close," he pleaded, the words rasping past his lips as he desperately clung to the edge. Those words, the knowledge that he'd been able to bring none other than Draco Malfoy so close to orgasm this soon, froze Harry on the spot. He felt the heat pooling in his stomach, realized that his balls had tightened up; everything in him was ready to shoot and they hadn't even gotten started yet. Fighting for breath, he mumbled a spell of his own.

"What the hell?" Malfoy yelped, body jerking as he looked down at where his cock was buried deep within Harry.

"Magical cock ring," Harry supplied. "Helps you not to come for a while. Don't overdo it though, or it'll hurt like hell."

"I know how a cock ring works, tosser," Malfoy growled as he pulled out. Harry was busy formulating an answer to that, but the words were scattered on a low moan as Draco plunged back in. He repeated the motion, but with more force this time and Harry reached above and behind his head for something to hang onto so his back wouldn't be scrubbed raw on the stone floor of the War Room. He found the legs of the round table and grabbed hold when Draco started to pound into him in earnest.

"Sweet Merlin, Harry, you feel good," Draco whispered, his voice barely audible above the wet slapping sound of flesh on flesh. But Harry felt it, he felt Draco's cock twitch inside him and angled his hips so the other man could reach his prostate.

"Ah-ha-ha! Right there, Draco, Gods, yes!" Harry released both of their cock rings before he had his brains fucked out so thoroughly he wouldn't be able to and he felt his cock start to pulse immediately. He reached between their bodies to give it a few strong fast strokes and then his entire world exploded.

Harry coated himself in spurt after spurt of his own juices as Draco kept pounding into his prostate, keeping the orgasm going. However he had only a few strokes left in him before his orgasm took away all conscious muscle control. Mingled breathless groans echoed in the large War Room, leaving behind a loaded silence as their panting subsided.

Draco rolled off of Harry as soon as he found the strength to move.

"Bloody tease," he accused Harry as he tried to gather enough strength to sit up. Harry managed to turn his head sideways, looking surprised.

"What d'you mean?"

"Bending over in my field of vision, showing off delicious slithers of skin as you stretch, moaning in your sleep, being bloody gorgeous to begin with," Draco clarified, managing to sound disapproving, even whilst dishing out compliments. Harry chuckled and rolled over on his side, facing Draco.

"I had no idea I turned you on," he admitted, using an arm to support his head. Draco copied his pose.

"Trust me, neither did I and see, you're doing it again. Bloody git!" But Draco didn't sound irritated or upset in the slightest and Harry smiled as accio'd his wand to spell the both of them clean.

"I guess we have a lot to learn about each other, huh?" he supplied as he reluctantly sat up to look around for his clothes. Draco made a lazy grab for his shirt and then smacked Harry over the head with it, when he realized all the buttons were gone.

"Indeed. For instance, I do not like my good shirts ruined," Draco agreed, stepping into his boxers. Harry snickered as he pulled his own shirt over his head.

"Or I don't like buttons when I'm horny?" he countered.

"Hmpf, just get back to work, I'd rather study you in the wild, not locked up in a War Room," Draco punned, then pulled a face at his own bad joke. Harry laughed and shook his head, stepping into his trousers. Apparently there was a whole Draco Malfoy he knew nothing about and he was quite eager to change that.

Harry was beginning to fear they'd have to spend another night in the War Room when finally Hermione's scribbles started appearing. He called Draco over and they both read in anticipation as the words appeared on the parchment.

_Evening both of you,_

_I'm glad to report that I've found a way to disarm the spells on the door. Let me know when Malfoy is ready with neutralizing the potion. If all goes well – and the two of you haven't hexed each other yet – we should be able to get you out tonight._

"She's never going to believe this," Harry sniggered.

"I can't wait to see her face," Draco gloated and Harry slapped him on the back of the head playfully. Draco simply gave him a pointed look and proceeded to fix his hair.

_Ron reported nothing strange about the aurors' behaviour, but they had to cut surveillance short as they have another case on their hands at the moment.  
Waiting for your message. Hopefully, we'll see each other tonight._

_Hermione_

"Weasley has another case that you were not informed about?" Draco turned questioning eyes on Harry, who contemplated what to do for a moment. Ron's identity was secret, not even Hugo and Rose would know what their father did until they were adults. But for some reason, he wanted to tell Draco, trusted him. Refusing to think about that further and diving in head-first, like a proper Gryffindor, Harry decided Draco would keep the secret safe.

"If I tell you, you'll have to take an oath of secrecy," he said. Draco's eyes went wide.

"You're meaning to tell me the Weasel is an Unspeakable or a Hit-Wizard?"

"Why is that so hard to believe? One of his older brothers is a Curse-Breaker for Gringott's and Ron happens to be a tactical genius," Harry bristled; annoyed with the opinion Draco seemed to have of his best friend. For a minute it looked like Draco was about to laugh, but then his expression turned serious.

"Alright, I'll swear the oath," he promised and Harry explained about Ron's position as a Hit-Wizard in the Order squad. Draco actually seemed impressed, but didn't comment on it. Instead he reached for a vial from his desk.

"Thanks for explaining, Harry. Now, are you ready to see a real Potions Master at work?" he said as he made his way to the spelled door. Harry once again readied his wand, but he was much more intent on actually protecting Draco this time. He was no longer just an innocent bystander. What exactly he was, Harry didn't know yet, but there'd be time enough to figure that out later. He nodded at Draco, who proceeded to smash the vial on the floor in front of the door.

A loud sizzling sound filled the room as the liquid started to bubble, mingling with the blue residue already on the stone. Draco kept a close eye on what was happening, but he hadn't moved, so Harry assumed things were going more or less according to plan. He became a little unsure when orange smoke started to drift up from the potion, engulfing them in a suffocating smell of petrol.

"Draco?" Harry coughed. "Draco, is this supposed to happen?" He was pulled out of the cloud by a fair skinned arm.

"Yes, but you're not supposed to stand in the smoke, you dolt," Draco admonished, but he hadn't let go of Harry's hand.

The smoke cleared after a couple of minutes and after thorough inspection Draco declared the potion neutralized, so Harry wrote a note to Hermione. Both he and Draco positioned themselves outside the blast circle and waited.

It seemed to take forever, but finally purple light shone from under the door. It flashed into the room, bathing everything in an unearthly glow for a second, and then disappeared. Next, Hermione's scribble let them know that they should be able to leave the room now.

"Ready?" Harry asked, but Draco shook his head.

"You stay out of the way and cast a protective shield just in case it didn't work, I'll go through the door," he said. Harry ignored the warm feeling rushing through him over Draco's obvious worry for him. Instead, he offered his hand.

"Together?" he asked.

"Together."

And so it came to be that both Ron and Hermione forgot to hug their friend in welcome and Kingsley Shacklebolt forgot to speak, all of them flabbergasted at the image of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy walking through the door hand in hand.


	6. Chapter 5 TREACHEROUS TWO

**Author**: Magicallioness  
**Title:** EVEN – Chapter 5 Treacherous Two  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, mentioning of Dennis Creevey/Hannah Abbott.  
**Story Summary:** Harry and Draco have been trapped inside the Ministry of Magic by the magical equivalent of a bomb. Stuck in close quarters, they have to find a way to set aside their differences, disable the bomb, get the culprit oh, and not die of boredom.  
**Chapter Summary:** Whether it was her foot or the message she would never know, but Harry seemed to focus at any rate.  
"Who hasn't shown up for work?" he inquired, looking on in mild disturbance as his friend absentmindedly started to rearrange the papers on his desk in neat stacks.  
"Hannah Abbott, Harry. She's missing."  
**Rating:** for the whole story: R, for Chapter 5: PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warning(s):** character bashing  
**Epilogue compliant?** most certainly not  
**Word Count**: 6.592  
**Author's Notes:** Thanks to 97swan songs, who did not shy away from promising 14k worth of betaing in two days and managed to Brit pick while she was at it. Remaining mistakes are most certainly mine. Constructive criticism and reviews are so very welcome.  
And last, enjoy!

Chapter 5 Treacherous Two

The entire wizarding world seemed to reel at the shock of what had happened at the Ministry of Magic; everyone and everything lurching and jostling, finding a new place in the balance of things. And it made Harry grimace to recognize that what astounded the public so was not the magical bomb in the heart of wizarding Britain, nor the dangerous criminal on the loose; it was the knowledge of the connection between him and Draco, even though nobody was sure of what it actually consisted of, not even the two of them. But the picture on the front page of the Daily Profit that showed him and Draco holding hands as they walked out through the door of the War Room had shook their society on its vestments. Not so much because they were two men, that would've been too much like the Muggles, no it was the Golden Boy and former Death Eater combination that did it. Harry and Draco tried their best to ignore the whole hullabaloo, focussing instead on catching whoever had trapped them in that room in the first place.

"Harry," Hermione entered his office after a short knock on the frame of the open door. "Remember I told you Ron got another case yesterday?"

"Hmhm." Harry, after a relaxing shower and sleep in his own home, had politely declined Kingsley's offer of a holiday and had arrived back at work bright and early this morning. Therefore, he was half asleep now that it was nearing lunch time and couldn't manage more than vaguely interested sounds.

"Well, it was a hunch then, but now that she hasn't shown up for work, it's official," Hermione continued, sitting down on the edge of his desk and prodding him with her foot to make sure he was awake. Whether it was her foot or the message she would never know, but Harry seemed to focus at any rate.

"Who hasn't shown up for work?" he inquired, looking on in mild disturbance as his friend absentmindedly started to rearrange the papers on his desk in neat stacks.

"Hannah Abbott, Harry. She's missing."

Harry got up and walked over to the crime board – an actual one this time, with all the information from the War Room copied onto it – and made some notes. Then something occurred to him.

"How's Dennis taking it?" he asked. Hermione wore a look he didn't see on her often, so it took him a while to figure out it was confusion.

"Dennis Creevey? I don't know, like anyone else I guess. Why are you asking?" Harry frowned and turned back to his crime board. Hermione was usually on the up-and-up on everything, including office gossip, so it was very odd she didn't know yet.

"He and Hannah were involved," he explained. He didn't know what kind of reaction he'd expected from Hermione, but the derisive snort that made her sound an awful lot like Draco was definitely not it.

"I assure you they are not, Harry. Ron had surveillance on her, remember?"

"But, I don't understand, Draco told me…," Harry fell silent. Had Draco really lied to him? And if so, why?

"Draco told you what, Harry?" Hermione asked, but Harry shook his head. He wanted to speak with Draco about this first. Making it public knowledge that Draco had lied to him would make him an immediate suspect and worse, the Daily Prophet would ruin whatever reputation he still had. He'd be branded a criminal all over again.

"Nothing, never mind. I'm assuming we have a round table about this new development?" Harry changed the subject with little subtlety, but it didn't matter. He'd made clear to Hermione he didn't want to talk about it at the moment and Hermione was a good enough friend to let it drop for a while.

"Yes, in about five minutes. Care to walk with me?"

Harry grabbed some papers off his desk and followed Hermione out the door.

Kingsley dragged a loving index finger over the surface of the round table in the War Room. It was good to have it back, have everyone back in their proper place. It had taken the entire night to end all the configuration spells and put the room back in order, but Kingsley felt it was well worth the trouble. Which was likely in no small part due to the fact that he hadn't been part of the clean up, instead, he'd been at home all night, sound asleep.

"Good morning fellow wizards and witches – morning Harry, it's good to have you back," Kingsley nodded at Harry, who gave a curt nod back, his eyes darting to the closed door for a moment, before settling back onto Kingsley. "As I'm sure you've all heard, our colleague Hannah Abbott has disappeared. I've put together a team to investigate which will be lead by Weasley. He and his team have had Abbott under surveillance, so they have first hand information. Weasley, if you please," Kingsley motioned for Ron to take over. Ron got to his feet and walked around the table to the white board.

"Right," he said, casting a nervous look around the table. He might be a highly trained Hit Wizard and everything, but speaking in front of a group still made him nervous. He spotted the encouraging nod that Harry gave him and ploughed on. "This is what we know so far," and with a wave of his wand a rain of parchment descended, two pieces landing in front of each auror. Ron proceeded to explain how the surveillance hadn't turned up anything particular, apart from the fact that Hannah seemed to be rather homey. All three days of surveillance had seen her go straight home from work and stay there. She took the usual apparating routes and left for work at normal times. This morning, she simply hadn't left the house. "When it was confirmed she didn't call in sick, we went in," Ron explained. "The house was empty. We have a team in there right now. Mister Abbott has been contacted and will arrive at the Ministry shortly. At present, we have no idea what happened. Questions?"

Aleka's hand shot into the air, much in the way Hermione's used to back at Hogwarts. Ron accepted her question.

"Abbott was under surveillance due to the Potter-Malfoy case, any possibility both are linked?" she asked. Today she was reading a pocket sized book that looked so old it might fall apart in her hands. Ron nodded at her.

"We're keeping that possibility open, yes, although we currently have no indication of this."

More questions were asked and the meeting dragged on, but Harry wasn't paying attention. His mind kept wandering back to Draco. They'd said a quick, but private goodbye before going their separate ways last night and Draco had left him with a kiss that promised more. But why had Draco lied to him? Or had he?

Harry pulled Ron aside after the meeting, wanting to ask his questions in private.

"What's up, mate? You look worried," Ron asked as he leaned one shoulder against the wall. Harry had been grateful that both Ron and Hermione had been accepting when he told them about what had transpired between him and Draco. They'd accompanied him home, where they discussed all events of the last few days, just like they used to do in the Gryffindor common room. But now, Harry was worried Ron might change his mind if he learned Draco had lied. Yes, he was civil to their former nemesis, but he certainly didn't like him.

"Did you… notice anything out of the ordinary about Hannah?" he asked and wanted to smack himself in the face for asking such a stupid question. Ron gave him a lopsided smile.

"Fell asleep again during the meeting? I've just explained that Hannah seemed perfectly normal, if a bit reclusive," he answered. Harry sighed and raked a hand through his unruly mop of hair.

"No, no, I heard. I mean, did she seem involved with anyone?" Ron frowned in confusion.

"What are you on about? Don't tell me you've lost interest in Malfoy and decided to give Abbott a try," he said, a bit too loud for Harry's taste.

"Would you keep quiet? And no, nothing of the sort. I have some… suspicions is all." Yeah, suspicions that Draco was lying to him, suspicions he really wanted to see disproven.

"We tapped her floo, Harry. If she's seeing someone they must've been fighting, because she didn't contact anybody in three days," Ron said. Harry thanked his friend and made his way to the potions lab, a deep frown furrowing his brow.

"Harry, what a pleasant surprise!" Draco greeting him amiably when he entered the large sterile room. Harry wrinkled his nose involuntarily; the smell of the lab reminded him of St. Mungo's. "Or is it?" Draco continued as he caught sight of Harry's expression.

"Can I talk to you for a moment, in private?" Harry requested, forgetting to return the greeting in his occupied state of mind. Draco led the way into his office and shut the door behind him. His expression was almost anxious as he turned to face Harry.

"I'd ask you to sit down, but I don't think you will. How can I help you?" he asked. He was right of course, Harry didn't want to sit down. In fact, he was fighting the urge to pace, something he always did when he was stressed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it shouldn't be such a big deal if Draco had lied to him. It didn't make him guilty of anything. But that was not why it worried Harry so.

"There's no proof of a relationship between Abbott and Creevey," he said, ashamed of the accusing tone in his voice. He was not here to start a fight.

"What do you mean no proof? I caught them sticking their tongues down each other's throats and they asked me to keep it quiet. How much more proof do you need?" Draco sounded upset and rightfully so, Harry thought. He didn't have any right to come barging in here and start throwing around accusations, did he?

"Ron's surveillance of Abbott shows no signs of her being in a relationship; she didn't contact anyone for three days. She's missing and Creevey isn't reacting at all," he explained. Draco looked as surprised as he had been and a bit of the tension in Harry was converted into relief.

"Well, have you asked Creevey about it?" Draco suggested. "Perhaps he can shed some light on the situation."

Harry shook his head. "He's at Hannah's house, collecting evidence." As he said it, realization hit Harry like a stack of bricks to the back of his head. "If he's involved, he could be there destroying evidence! Thank you, Draco." He pressed a quick kiss to the other man's lips before he could change his mind about that and dashed out of Draco's office.

He didn't wait for Kingsley to acknowledge his knock before he stormed into the Head Aurors office.

"Salazar's beard, Potter, what do you think you are doing!" Kingsley exclaimed as he ducked for the stack of parchment that threatened to fall of his desk. Harry skidded to a halt in front of Kingsley's desk, brought to a full stop by the power in the man's voice.

"Excuse me, sir, but this is extremely important," Harry said, urgency stringing his sentence together into one long word.

"Out with it then, Potter," Kingsley sighed as he finished straightening his papers.

"I've reason to believe Abbott was involved with Creevey, sir. Romantically, I mean. He might be destroying evidence this very minute," Harry rushed the words out, before they were properly formed and Kingsley – understandably – looked as confused as his stacks of parchments had been a few minutes ago.

"Calm down, Potter! Now, take it from the top," he ordered. Harry took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and started over.

When he sat back down in his office half an hour later, Dennis Creevey was on his way back to the Ministry and Harry was convinced the disappearance of Hannah Abbott and the magical bomber were linked somehow. And he was going to find out what that connection was.

Harry cursed under his breath as he slapped the Abbott case file closed for the second time that morning. It had been almost a week and they were no closer to solving either case. Hannah's house had turned up nothing. There were no signs of struggle, nothing was missing, no curses had been cast; it seemed like she'd simply vanished into thin air. The surveillance on the aurors was lifted, and all of them had returned to work, because none of them seemed linked to the magical bomb in the Ministry in the slightest and the new magical law forbade more than a week of surveillance on any person without proper cause. The fact that they were capable of creating the magic bomb was not enough cause according to the Wizengamot. In short, the investigation was dying under them. A knock on his door pulled Harry out of his dark train of thought.

"Hey," Draco said softly as he entered Harry's office. "I thought you might want to join me for lunch."

Harry's stomach gave a loud grumble in answer, making the both of them laugh.

"I guess I have no choice," Harry said and grabbed his cloak from the stand by the door. "Lead the way."

Draco took them to a small but neat bistro ten minutes walk away from the Ministry. It was decorated in art nouveau style and the club sandwich Harry had just polished off had been superb. He smiled to himself; of course Draco could be trusted with making excellent restaurant choices.

"Harry, you seem awfully bothered by something lately. What's wrong?" Draco prodded him carefully and Harry could only assume Draco felt as insecure about the two of them as he was. They were on new terrain and their footing was unsteady. They didn't know what to expect of the other or what would happen next. At the same time it was exiting, or at least Harry thought so.

"Only work, nothing to worry about," he ensured his – what was Draco now? He wasn't exactly Harry's boyfriend, but they certainly couldn't call each other simple friends either. Harry pushed the thought aside as Draco urged him to explain what was bothering him.

"It's just that I'm so sure the Abbott case is connected to ours, but I can't put it together," he explained. Draco pondered on that for a minute, distracting Harry with the cute wrinkle that appeared between his eyebrows.

"Well, if I get stuck on a potion, I generally go back to the recipe, look everything over again from beginning to end to see if I missed something," he supplied in the end. "But I guess that doesn't help you much."

Harry smiled and reached across the table to put his hand on top of Draco's. A tingling rush went through his stomach as Draco gave a gentle squeeze.

"It's good advice, Draco, thanks," Harry said and promptly decided he didn't want to talk about work. He wanted to get to know this new Draco and he already knew about the Potion Analyst part. He longed to know personal things about the other man, like what did he do in his free time, what did his apartment look like, which books did he read? For Harry was certain Draco read, he had to, with all that sophistication dripping off him all the time. "We can talk about work when we are at work. How about you tell me about your weekend instead?"

Harry never found out more than that Draco played a friendly game of Quidditch on Saturdays and that he was still playing seeker. He was about to ask who Draco played with, when a voice rather like that of Molly Weasley came from somewhere near his left arm.

"Get back to work right this instant, you slacker!" it shouted. Harry quickly turned off the alarm and glanced at the dial. Sure enough, his own pointer was firmly indicating 'late for work, again'. He excused himself to Draco, who wore an amused smile and hurried back to the Ministry, convinced that lunch break really was a lie.

"Parkinson?" Harry asked politely as he entered the Ministry through the Department of Interconnecting Mediums after leaving Draco in the elevator. The dark haired witch looked up from the parchment she'd been inspecting with a looking glass. Harry noted it not only enlarged the text Parkinson was looking at, it also commented on it. On the side of the glass, Harry spotted several levers saying things like 'grammar', 'handwriting' and 'quill handling'.

"Potter, to what do I owe the honour?" The way in which Pansy Parkinson said it, made it quite clear she considered his visit anything but an honour, but Harry was undeterred.

"I need you to go over the handwriting analysis that you did for our case again," he requested. Well, his tone suggested a favour asked, his words really didn't. Pansy sneered at him and Harry thought it made her look spectacularly unattractive, but Pansy nodded nonetheless. She had no choice really, as all analytical departments were technically placed under the aurors.

"Anything specific you're looking for?" she asked.

"Forget about who wrote the notes, just focus on anything that might jump out, ok?"

"You're the boss," Pansy answered and turned back to the magnifying glass. Harry left her to it and moved on towards his own department, stopping by Ron's office on his way down and asking to see the surveillance documentation on Bagman and Hannah Abbott. The auror surveillance had been marked classified, so Ron couldn't help him there.

"You'll have to file an official request with the Department of Secrecy, mate. I'm sorry." Ron looked genuinely apologetic as Harry rolled his eyes at the thought of doing all that paperwork. The Department of Secrecy was the laughing stock of the Ministry. The most common joke was that the reason they kept everything secret in there was because it simply got lost. Then of course there were the rumours of things actually disappearing from the department, but nobody put much stock in that. Well, nobody but the Quibbler who had requested permission to do an 'in depth research' into the department several times, which was – of course – always refused.

"Not your fault, Ron," Harry waved off his friends apology. He might not have been so forgiving had he known then he would spend the rest of the afternoon filling in forms and fighting to explain a seemingly demented wizard what it was exactly that he wanted. When he finally exited the Department of Secrecy, feeling exhausted, the gate shut behind him with a reverberating 'clang'. Perhaps it was the long day, but Harry grimly thought that the Department of Secrecy should be named the Department of Daft or possibly the Department of How-To-Waste-Your-Time. He set out to catch auror Aleka before she went home to request the aurors' research on his suspects, hoping his own department would prove more useful.

Harry spent the next few days wrestling through the research and surveillance reports, the boredom only broken by the occasional clandestine meeting with Malfoy in an abandoned hallway or broom closet if they got carried away. They snogged and writhed and on one memorable occasion had even used their hands to bring each other off once and Harry became increasingly sure he wasn't going to spend this weekend on his own. If he didn't have to spend it in his office that was. Both cases were getting colder by the hour and Harry still had no leads. He'd gone as far as having Williamson track down the purchase record of every potionshop in Britain and check it for the ingredients Draco had reported to be in the potion that had been under the door. The list of customers that had bought the rarest ones recently couldn't be very long.

Harry was trying to focus on the daily activities of Adrian Bagman when a not fluttered onto his desk.

_Potter,_

_I have discovered something interesting about the notes you wanted me to analyse again._

_Parkinson_

Harry huffed in irritation; it was so typical of Parkinson to make him go over there to find out what it was she'd discovered.

"What is it?" he asked, none too kindly when he reached her desk.

"My, my, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today," Parkinson chimed as she turned her chair around and crossed her legs. The slit in her skirt showed a inordinate amount of skin and Harry had half a mind to report it to Kingsley, but then he realized Kingsley would likely approve.

"Just spit it out already," he told Parkinson instead. She made an offended noise in the back of her throat, but retrieved the notes anyway.

"I've compared the quill pressure and letter size on both notes," she said as she put the looking glass over parchment. It spoke just one word in a rather metallic voice.

"Identical."

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"We already knew the notes were written by the same person, Parkinson," he admonished.

"They weren't." Harry had the decency to look surprised.

"In fact, they weren't written by a person at all. Nobody writes with identical quill pressure and letter size in two different notes. This note was written by a dictation quill," Parkinson explained. Harry sighed as he pulled a hand through his hair.

"Great, there must be thousands of those," he dropped down into a random chair and buried his head in his hands.

"True, but each of them has a unique magical signature. See, during the Smiths-Ardenne's case the quoting quill was a key piece of evidence. Smiths had-"

"Thanks, Parkinson," Harry cut her off as he got up. He heard her mumble something about a barbarian under her breath as he rushed out and to Kingsley's office.

"Potter, just the auror I want to see. Take a seat," Kingsley said as Harry entered his office. "I'm happy to report that Weasley has made some headway in tracking down Abbott. He had the spells cast in the house timed and it turns out she likely apparated from her home. Weasley's tracking the apparition as we speak."

"That's great, sir," Harry was aware he should be more excited about the news - it looked like Ron might actually find Hannah sometime soon – but he was more concerned with his own case at the moment. "I need a warrant for every quoting quill the suspects in the bombing case used."

Kingsley's hand froze halfway to his teacup.

"Come again?" he said and his hand resumed the movement. Harry explained to Kingsley that he wanted to try and match their magical signature with the one that had written the notes.

"Now that's what I call probable cause, boy!" Kingsley beamed and by that afternoon the warrants landed on Harry's desk and aurors were sent out to search every cubicle, office and house for the quills. Not surprisingly, Harry was in a rather good mood when Dennis Creevey showed up in front of his desk.

"Dennis! How can I help you?" Harry greeted him cheerfully and motion for him to sit down, hiding his surprise at the young auror's precense. Creevey sat down on the very edge of the offered chair, wringing the hands he placed in his lap. It was obvious that he was very nervous about something and Harry's upbeat disposition fled as he wondered what that something could be.

"Dennis, is something wrong?" he asked cautiously. He honestly felt that if he made any sudden movements or said something wrong, Creevey would bolt. Harry calmly put down the file he had been holding, focussing his attention solely on the tensed youngster. Creevey took a deep breath and then burst out:

"I wrote the notes, Harry."

And then pandemonium descended upon Harry's office: Aleka and Balendin came bursting through his door and petrified Creevey on sight. Soon after his quill was identified as the one that wrote the notes and Dennis Creevey was arrested for aiding and abetting the magical bomber. He repeated his confession during interrogation, but denied having placed the spells and potion. Harry ran a background check on his recent purchases and found only belladonna on the list. Since belladonna was part of even the most standard of potion kits, that didn't prove anything. The interrogations intensified, but Creevey refused to say who he wrote the notes for or why. Harry was just starting to fear they would have to use veritaserum on him when Ron brought spectacular news to the round table meeting.

"I believe we've found Hannah Abbott," he announced, not without pride. "If we're correct, she's in Cavern Cottage."

"Isn't that in the Forest of Dean?" Harry asked.

"Yes and the house named Cavern Cottage for a reason. It's believed to have been built on top of a cave. There are supposedly dozens of underground passageways in and out through the cellar," Ron continued his explanation of the site and battle plan.

"What do you need Weasley?" Kingsley offered his services. Ron looked around the table.

"This will not be an easy one. We have no idea what we're walking into so I need experienced people who can think on their feet and adapt. I will also need a Potions Master to deal with any trap we might run into. Cursebreakers for the wards that will undoubtedly be in place and some other people that I can provide myself," he summed up.

"Potter, Williamson, Aleka, Savage, you'll stay to discuss strategy with Weasley, the rest of you may go," Kingsley said. He clapped Ron on the shoulder, eliciting a poorly hidden wince. "Good luck, kid," Kingsley wished, before leaving them to it.

"Bring Draco in as Potions Master, Ron. I still feel these cases are connected somehow and he knows the spell that was used on the War Room door," Harry requested. Ron nodded. He'd fought a war beside Harry and came out victorious; he was not going to start doubting his friend now.

"I'm surprised you'd choose the Death Eater's son, Potter. I thought you'd have seen enough of those to last you a lifetime," Balendin spoke up. Harry's eyes darkened in anger and he was already pushing himself out of his chair, ready to retort, when Ron cut in.

"Malfoy is also one of the best Potions Masters we have on board, Balendin. So unless you have any real reasons not to want him on the team, I'd kindly ask you to shut it."

Harry sank back into his seat, thankfulness charming a smile on his face as he nodded towards Ron. He knew Ron didn't particularly like Draco, so Harry was all the more grateful he'd come to Draco's defence. .

When Draco entered the room minutes later, the mood had greatly improved. Everyone was focussed on the coming mission, adrenaline and focus building as they formulated their plan. It was decided they would go in that very same night, under cover of darkness.

Harry felt more than heard Draco hunker down next to him in the bushes. They'd portkeyed to the edge of the forest almost an hour ago and split up into teams of two, each couple working their way through the forest cautiously. Harry had been partnered with a Hit Wizard called Tim Dalish. Unfortunately he'd been taken out by a nasty booby-trap involving Devil's Snare. Harry had managed to free him using bluebell flames, but Dalish was bleeding from so many cuts he'd sent him back to the portkey. As a result, he had been left crawling through the darkness alone, until he found Draco, also on his own, hiding behind a tree and trying to safe Savage from a Venomous Tentacula that was much bigger and more aggressive than it should be. Together, they'd managed to cut off most of the plants vines. Savage, sporting a broken arm and wheezing like a bicycle pump, had suggested they'd partner up while he got himself fixed.

"You see those two trees up ahead?" Draco pointed. Harry squinted, trying to make out the shapes in the darkness. After a few seconds he did find them. "Why is there a hill between them?"

Harry looked again and sure enough, the roots of the trees seem to grow over something where they met, forming an upside down u-shape.

"Let's go," he whispered and led them in a half circle towards the hill.

The surveillance team had met them at the portkey site to report everything they'd been able to discover. It hadn't been much and so Ron had decided to send the teams in from every direction, surrounding the house and hopefully taking down as much security as possible while closing in. Any signs of underground passages were to be investigated. It seemed unlikely that the rumours were true, but Ron made it very clear he was not taking any chances. So Harry and Draco inspected the unusual growth of the tree roots.

"That's odd," Harry commented as he looked at a patch of dirt that seemed more compact than its surroundings, like a large, round footprint. He experimentally poked his wand at it and felt resistance.

"What is it?" Draco said, approaching and inadvertently stepping on the exact area Harry was inspecting. Harry raised a hand in an effort to stop his partner from touching the suspicious spot, only to have it grabbed by Draco, who elicited a startled yelp as the ground gave way from under his feet.

The door in front of the tunnel entrance turned inwards and Draco slid into its dark depths, dragging Harry with him. They slid several meters down, their screams echoing off of the rock walls, and tumbled on top of each other as they reached the bottom of what seemed to be a slide. Wheezing and coughing, swallowing enough dirt to last them a lifetime, they scrambled to their feet. Harry lit a quick Lumos.

"You alright, Draco?" he asked, once the light of his wand had found the other man's face.

"Yeah, nothing broken. I guess we managed to find an underground tunnel, huh?"

"_You_ sure did," Harry agreed, turning around and shining his Lumos in every direction. "It seems to be leading this way, come on."

Draco lit his own wand and hurried after Harry who was quickly disappearing into the darkness. The tunnel was so narrow they were forced to walk in single file, but at least the roof was high enough for them to walk upright. The walls were smooth and glistening with moisture. Harry ran a hand along the rock and quickly whipped it off on his robes when he found it to be slimy.

"Yuck," he voiced his opinion.

"Water dripping down from the forest, most likely full of left over nutrients. That's probably why its slimy. And the algae on the walls of course," Draco reasoned, hiding a smile at Harry's obvious disgust.

They were talking in low voices, trying not to alert anybody they were coming, but every sound reverberated off the walls, making it seem ten times louder. Even their footsteps gave the impression a horde of trolls was running around underground. They'd been walking for several minutes, when they reached a split in the road. One of the tunnels veered off to the left, while the other went straight.

"Great," Draco said. "Now what?"

Harry inspected the rock around both entrances, ignoring his disgust as he ran his fingers along the wall.

"If there are really that many tunnels under here, it's unlikely the owner knew them all by heart, so there are probably markings here somewhere to indicate which tunnel to take," he guessed. Draco started inspecting the smooth surface as well. "And if not," Harry continued. "We split up."

After several minutes of feeling around, they found nothing. Harry didn't like the idea of splitting up; they had no idea what awaited them inside those tunnels, but it was the fastest way to cover a lot of ground and they needed to be fast. Considering the amount of traps they'd set off, whoever was in that house knew they were coming and the less time they got to prepare or get out, the better.

"Alright, I'll take the left fork," Harry said and marked the entrance by spelling a red arrow onto the rock. Draco surprised him by pulling him in for a long kiss. Harry wound an arm around Draco's waist, pulling the other man tight against him and opening his mouth to that now familiar prodding tongue. In the back of his mind he knew this was not exactly the opportune place or time for this, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Eventually, he had to break the kiss in favour of air.

"Be careful," Draco told him, before marking his own direction with a green arrow and setting off.

"You too," Harry whispered at his back, even as he was smirking at Draco's choice in colours. "Truce my arse," he mumbled as he entered his own tunnel. As he moved forward, the tunnel kept getting smaller and by the time he reached the next fork in the road he had to walk hunched over. He was faced with a three way choice here, none of them straight. Harry picked the right most at random, marked it and moved on.

After being faced with several blind walls, a gaping hole, two traps he noticed and deactivated and one that he could barely escape from, Harry was faced with a door. He whispered a quick 'Nox' and pressed his ear to the door. Deadly silence was all that reached him from the other side. Harry took a deep breath and tried the handle; the door opened without any trouble and Harry stepped into what could only be a cellar.

The room was dark and dank, but Harry didn't dare to make light in fear of being discovered. He used his hands to guide himself as he walked along the wall to the far end of the room, where light was shining from under a second door. His arm bumped something and the clang of wine bottles made him cringe and freeze in place, biting his lip to prevent the pained gasp that wanted to escape. Nothing moved or made a sound, so Harry rubbed his throbbing elbow and moved on. He made it halfway to the door when it flew open, the light streaming in almost blinding Harry.

He held up a hand to shield his eyes, but he could only make out a female shaped shadow in the doorway.

"Harry Potter, what a surprise," a female voice drifted through the stale air towards him. Harry didn't recognize the sound, the animosity and contempt distorting it into something scratchy and unpleasant.

"Who-," he began, but was silenced as the shadow turned, allowing the light to glance of her face. "Hannah?"

"You sound surprised. Where you maybe expecting cute, timid little Hannah, who's afraid of her Herbology O.W.L.'s, hmm?" Hannah closed in on him and Harry saw the flash of a wand in her hand. He steadied his grip on his own wand, but didn't respond. "Shall I make pigtails for you?"

Hannah tilted her head to the side and held her hair together as she laughed. It was a terrible sound, high and harsh and demented and it sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

"Why'd you disappear, Hannah?" he asked, eyes darting from left to right, trying to asses the battlefield as best he could in this darkened room. For a battle there would be, Harry had no doubt. For the moment, Hannah was just toying with him, but she'd entered with her wand drawn, she meant business.

"Because you made it out of the room alive, and you were not supposed to, neither was that waste of space Malfoy," Hannah barked and Harry started, for it was only now that he realized that it was Hannah who was responsible for locking him in that room with Draco, that it was Hannah who'd tried to kill them both.

"Why, Hannah? What did we ever do to you?" he asked and flinched as Hannah's screech echoed through the cellar.

"Why? Why?! Because the Death Eaters murdered my mother and you did nothing! Because it was Lucius Malfoy who sentenced her to death and the Ministry locked him away out of reach! Because the Ministry allowed Voldemort to take over in the first place, that's why, Harry!"

Harry knew that she was mental, or highly unstable at the very least, but he could help the guilt that crept up on him. If he'd only confronted Voldemort earlier, Hannah's mother might still be alive. Or if he'd been able to convince Fudge or Scrimgeour of the seriousness of the situation, maybe even more people would have survived.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," he said. But all he got for his efforts was a curse flung at his head. Harry ducked behind a stack of crates he'd been moving towards for the last couple of minutes, narrowly avoiding it.

"Sorry?" Hannah, yelled. "Sorry doesn't cut it, Potter! It won't bring her back!"

Another curse hit the crates, blowing them into pieces. Harry sprinted along the wall, even though he was showered in pieces of wood. He shot a curse of his own, but without really aiming; it hit the wall to Hannah's right and bounced off harmlessly, but it distracted his opponent enough for Harry to hide behind the wine rack he'd bumped his elbow on earlier.

"Neither will taking revenge," Harry shouted back and sent a quick succession of curses, this time actually aiming for Hannah, but she darted out of the way, laughing again. Harry hated that sound; it reminded him of the way Bellatrix had cackled when she'd tortured Hermione.

"But it will make me feel better!" Hannah sounded furious, almost maniacal and she was keeping up such a barrage of curses, Harry was sent running around the room, dodging spells and debris alike. He cursed himself for being too kind because his opponent happened to be a former classmate. He knew better now, this wasn't his friend, this wasn't Hannah; this was some sick, twisted joke of a witch that had grown out of Hannah's festering feelings of powerlessness and anger.

"No," a voice came from the tunnel entrance. "It won't."

A curse hit Hannah square in the chest as she spun around to face the wizard that had spoken to her, and she went down. Harry immediately leaped from behind his cover and shot off a 'Petrificus Totalus', leaving Hannah helplessly immobilized. Relief flooded him when he turned to face the wizard in the doorway.

"Draco!"

His partner looked a little worse for wear, but seemed fine otherwise. Harry enveloped him in a hug to make sure.

"I'm fine you big oaf," Draco told him, but his voice was warm and his arms came up to press Harry against his chest. They sprung apart when Ron and the rest of the team burst through the cellar door, but Draco couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

"Great timing, Weasley."


	7. Epilogue

**Author**: Magicallioness  
**Title**: EVEN – Epilogue  
**Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, mentioning of Dennis Creevey/Hannah Abbott.  
**Story Summary**: Harry and Draco have been trapped inside the Ministry of Magic by the magical equivalent of a bomb. Stuck in close quarters, they have to find a way to set aside their differences, disable the bomb, get the culprit oh, and not die of boredom.  
**Chapter Summary**: "You'd better not cheat," he told Draco, who had the cheek to look indignant.  
"Me, cheat?" he asked in a high pitched voice that clearly betrayed he wasn't serious.  
**Rating**: for the whole story: R, for the epilogue: PG-13  
**Disclaimer**: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Warning(s):** sappy happy ending  
**Epilogue compliant?** most certainly not  
**Word Count**: 613  
**Author's Notes**: Thanks to 97swan songs, who did not shy away from promising 14k worth of betaing in two days and managed to Brit pick while she was at it. She deserves a sounding round of applause people. Remaining mistakes are most certainly mine. Constructive criticism and reviews are so very welcome. I hope you enjoyed the story!

Epilogue

"Oops, I see we're out of snacks," Harry noticed. "I'll go get some more."

He reluctantly extracted himself from under Draco's right arm, but paused before getting up.

"You'd better not cheat," he told Draco, who had the cheek to look indignant.

"Me, cheat?" he asked in a high pitched voice that clearly betrayed he wasn't serious.

"Oh shut it," Ron rumbled from where he was sprawled on the couch. "We all know it's the only way you could've won Settlers of Catan, you had the lousiest hexagonals on the board."

"Well then, in that case I'll just help Harry out in the kitchen, so all of you can be at ease, yeah?" Draco countered and trailed after Harry. Once they were inside, Draco kicked the door closed and pushed Harry into the counter as he nibbled on that spot behind his ear. Harry pressed his arse back into Draco on reflex, stifling a moan as Draco's arms came around his chest to play with a nipple.

"Not now, Dray, we have guests," he admonished his molester half-heartedly. Draco tilted his head to whisper into Harry's ear.

"Hmm, well, maybe we should get rid of them then."

As he felt his cock hardening, Harry pushed back from the counter in earnest, forcing Draco to step back as well.

"That would be incredibly rude; we're in the middle of a game," Harry said as he reached for a bag of crisps. "But as soon as they leave, I promise I'm all yours." He treated Draco to a long, sweet kiss to make up for the wait.

"I'll hold you to that," Draco agreed as he accepted another bag of snacks and made his way back to Harry's living room. Both him and Harry froze on the doorway at the scene in front of them.

Ron's face was buried in Hermione's neck, its purpose there obvious from the kissing noises emitted; one of his hands was happily fondling her right breast. Hermione's right leg was slung over Ron's, her head tilted back to allow Ron better access. She hadn't noticed the others come in, because her eyes were closed. They snapped open in shock as both Harry and Draco burst out laughing at the scene.

"And you were complaining about us having sex in the kitchen," Draco jibed, sending a red flush onto Harry's cheeks, while a rather green one appeared on Ron's.

Many double entendres and apologies later, the four of them managed to settle back in for their Friday night board game. It had become somewhat of a tradition in these last few weeks and Harry's collection of Muggle board games had expanded rapidly, mostly thanks to Draco, who wanted to try a new game every week. Draco had only gone home the first time they had a board game night. Nowadays he just stayed over.

"Oh Harry, I've been meaning to ask you," Hermione said as Ron was pondering what to do with the beans he'd drawn from the stack. "Have you heard the sentence for Creevey?"

"Yeah, three years, he got off ok," Harry answered, shaking his head as Ron offered his cards up for sale.

"Don't be so sure. He'll be separated from his precious Hannah for all that time and after that he'll still only get to see her in Azkaban. All because she wanted to get even. I'll give you to chilibeans for it," Draco interjected and waved his cards at Ron.

"The crazy things some people do for love," Ron said as he traded the cards in Draco's outstretched hand for his own.

"Indeed!" Harry and Draco chorused, sending the entire group into another round of laughter.


End file.
